Careful What You Wish For
by crgould66
Summary: You can't always get what you want, unless, of course, you're drinking with a vengeance demon. Buffy, quite be accident makes a wish that has consequences she never imagined. Creating an alternative reality, she soon discovers that the love that once so disgusted her, a love she took for granted had really meant the world to her. Wildly AU after 'Tabula Rasa.' Must read summary.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I'm really late to the Buffy fandom, having only watched all 7 seasons a few months ago. Of course that then got me reading fanfic, as I often do, and I came across this amazing story called Present Perfect by Helga Von Nutwimple. Much to my dismay is was never completed and I figured that seeing as it was written in August 2004 it probably never was going to be!

I just wanted this story so badly that I ended up writing my own version directly where Helga Von Nutwimple left of.

So basically this story continues on from her story. I have no idea on where she wanted to take it, but I definitely know where I'm taking this story. You really need to read her first five chapters for this to make sense. I've attached a link to her story.

s/2011576/1/Present-Perfect

If that doesn't work, go into filters, sort by reviews, all ratings and the character Spike and then apply. The story is on page 17.

Or you could just read this quick summary here:

Set directly after the season six episode 'Tabula Rasa.' Buffy, annoyed by Spike's advances lately, unknowingly and drunk, makes a wish to a vengeance demon. The wish starts out with Buffy saying 'Everything would just be so much easier if he didn't love me.' Buffy wishes to make Spike the perfect man for her to love. She lists off a whole bunch of things she'd change about him. She wishes he really was Giles son, so then Giles wouldn't leave. She wishes her mom was still alive. There was just one thing she'd forgotten, the earlier 'I-don't-want-him-to-love-me part.

She wakes up the following morning to find her Mom is still alive and Giles has been married to her Mom for five years.

Spike happens to be human and is Giles son. Spike has a tan, his hair is longer and curly with blonde tips. He is doing a doctorate in Psychology. He is a vegan, and is in love with his current girlfriend Tara. His first girlfriend was Faith, Buffy's so called best friend who had died. Buffy, apparently, had always blamed Spike for this. Will, aka Spike, is everyone's best buddy and especially Xander's. Xander is now a vampire and still with Anya. Willow is still with Oz. And much to Buffy's growing horror, Spike/Will doesn't love her. He only sees her as a sister. In a confrontation with him she tells him that she loves him, only to have him reject her.

P.S. Warning, I'm not as good a writer as Helga and my own style is pretty much my own style. I hope you like it anyway. I absolutely love writing stories. I was going to write this anyway whether or not anyone reads it. I just had to get it out of my system and so I thought I would share, just in case there was another crazy person out there like me that loves to read a story that's a bit different.

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'_**Careful on what you wish for'**_

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_**Chapter One.**_

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The hot tears that scalded her cheeks, tears of such raw anguish pain began to slowly diminish. She didn't know how, but she managed to pull herself to her feet and drag same said feet towards her home. Her throat felt like dry sand paper with a bitter after taste. She damned all vengeance demons and that cursed wish - _Everything would be so much easier if he didn't love me…_

She walked, soundlessly and sightlessly, not even noticing the odd strange look flung her way by passing strangers. What did it matter anymore?

What had she done?

She clenched her hands into fists until her nails dug into her palms, drawing blood.

She didn't feel the pain.

The pain in her heart was so great that nothing else mattered.

_Maybe if I understood him, knew what he felt, what it was like to be him …_

Oh, god … and now she was … in his shoes … she was him.

Spike was lost to her forever. It left a gaping hole in her heart. If only … if only … She didn't want … she didn't know … what it was she wanted. There was only need, only a deep aching need like a yawning abyss taking residence in her heart. And the only person who could fill it was now lost to her forever.

"I was so stupid," she muttered in furious heart rending hiccups between pained breaths. Will's, aka Spike, words came back to haunt her.

'_Well Slayer, whoever he was, you wished into oblivion. You made this world and now you have to lie in it …'_

She had, made this world, a world where she existed on the periphery, a world where her friends resented her, a world where Will was the centre of their universe and not her … never her. In many ways she was still alone, ostracized and ….

"Screw being the chosen one," she muttered to herself.

'_Oh how noble,' _came Zander's sneering face before her, _'The untouchable white princess getting her martyr on.'_

No … no … it wasn't like that … it wasn't. Buffy shut the memories out. It hurt, it hurt too much.

Finally her house came into view. A blessed relief. Maybe she should pack her bags and just run.

_No … no more running._

She had made her bed, as much as it hurt, and _she would lie in it._

Slowly and so heavily, Buffy dragged herself up the stairs of her house.

'_How long was I gone?'_

_Spike, sitting on the coffee table, directly in front of her. His hands holding her bloody damaged ones._

'_Hundred and forty seven days yesterday. Uh … hundred and forty eight today." His warm beautiful gaze swam before her, a hopeful smile on his lips. 'Cept today doesn't count, does it?'_

He had counted the days … the fucking days!

She fell back on her bed.

'_But I want you to know I did save you. Not when it countered, of course, but after that. Every night after that. I'd see it all again … do something different. Faster or more clever, you know? Dozens of times … lots of different ways.' His voice softened, love shining in his eyes. 'Every night I save you.'_

Oh, God! She raked stiff fingers through her hair.

What had she done!

'_I know you could never love me. I know I'm a monster, but you make me feel like a man.'_

Burying her face into her pillow she sobbed, they racked her body till her ribs ached and her heart felt torn, ripped from her chest.

"I didn't know," she murmured in a broken voice. "I didn't know … I didn't know … why didn't I see it?"

Now it was all very much … too late.

* * *

Joyce restlessly paced the overly decorative plush décor living room. Giles hands gently rested on her shoulders.

"She's still my daughter … Giles."

She raised pain filled eyes to his. "Maybe she can be a princess, precious … but she's still a girl, my girl and I can't … take seeing her like this … full of so much hurt and pain."

"It'll be okay, Joyce."

He enveloped her in his warm arms just as Will came storming through the doors. The dark expression on his face informed Giles that things hadn't gone down well between him and Buffy. His heart sank.

Tara shot a worried glance his way - _what did they do next?_

Withdrawing his arms from Joyce he approached Tara. "I think we need to give him his space."

"And Buffy?" Tara asked.

Giles pushed his hands into his pockets. His eyes gluing themselves to a spot of the floor.

"Her too." He sighed. "It's, ah, all a bit of a mess I'm afraid."

Giles returned to Joyce's anxious expression.

"Where is Buffy?"

He swallowed. "I don't know."

Joyce's expression crumpled before his eyes. He felt horrible.

"Buffy is strong, Joyce," he began. A lame attempt at trying, hoping he was right.

She turned wide stricken eyes to his. "I have to go to her, Giles. I have to help her."

He nodded. This whole horrible mess was taking its toll, even on him.

"We will go together."

Bundling Dawn and themselves into the car they drove home. No one spoke a word. There were no words left to be spoken.

Dawn was quietly weeping in the back seat. Silent tears she felt needed to be kept hidden. Her once secure family was now rendered incomplete.

She didn't understand … what was happening or why. Only that it sucked and it felt all wrong.

* * *

Once home, Joyce ran up the stairs to Buffy's bedroom. _Please let her be there, let it be okay_. She couldn't bear the thought of losing her. Once reaching Buffy's bedroom door, she took a deep breath and slowly pushed the door open.

Much to her relief Buffy was there, fast asleep in her bed. So she thought until she saw the deep shuddering breaths her daughter took.

Oh, Buffy.

Her heart broke, and she found herself moving soundlessly across her bedroom floor.

"Buffy," she spoke and brushed her tangled hair back from her face. "I still love you, I'll always love you."

The girl awoke from her broken stupor. "Mom." Her voice not much more than a silent shattered whisper. "I missed you so much."

The next thing Joyce knew, Buffy had wrapped her arms around her. It had been a while and it brought a lump to Joyce's throat.

She held a sobbing Buffy long into the night.

"The only good thing to come out of this is you came back … you came back to me …"

When Buffy finally fell asleep, Joyce was so exhausted that she could barely string two coherent sentences together.

Giles had patiently waited for her as she climbed into bed next to him.

"I think it'll be okay," she murmured, snuggling up to him as his comforting arms circled her. "I can't remember the last time she opened herself up to me like that. I do hope she will be okay."

* * *

Buffy rolled over in her bed, the sunlight streaming through the narrow split of her bedroom curtains. She could just lie here … forever, without a care in the world. Dawn could get her own breakfast, or maybe not. Knowing Dawn she would burn the kitchen down. She really should drag Dawn out of bed. There was no one else after all. It was all up to her. She was now … the carer … the adult … the mother ... the worker.

Dragging her legs over the side of the bed, she ran a hand through her long tousled hair.

"Buffy, breakfast is ready," her mother called from downstairs and all the painful memories came rushing back to her.

She literally fell out of bed, collapsing onto the floor.

It wasn't some horrible dream.

She had, in one foolish drunken night, changed all of their fate.

Spike didn't love her. Spike wasn't Spike anymore. He was William and he was in love with Tara.

In this bizarre world of her doing she had made him Mr Perfect. Only he would never be hers.

She ached for Spike. For the comfort he once offered, for the love he'd tried to give her, a love she'd so casually rejected. Her hands flew to her face.

What she wouldn't give for it now.

And then it came crashing down in all of its horrible ironic reality; she loved Spike. The hate was a disguise she had hidden behind, because it just wasn't fathomable that she could be in love with another vampire, a vampire without a soul.

No. No. No. No! No!

"Buffy," her mother called again.

Somehow she managed to get to her feet and stumbled down the stairs. She was met with her mom's worried gaze.

It felt just as bad as the time she had shoved the sword through Angel's heart, sending him to the hell dimension. And now … now it didn't even bear thinking about. How had Spike so easily replaced Angel in her heart? How had that happened and this other reality, was …

"Buffy," her mom spoke slowly and carefully. "How are you feeling?"

Her eyes met with her mom's.

"Like I've been … put through an emotional wringer."

Her mom gathered her up in a warm embrace. Okay, it had its pluses, this, this felt so good. Her mom pulled back to gaze into her face. The deep concern and worry in her eyes touched Buffy, filling the deep dark void inside of her.

Her mom pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"What happened between you and Will last night, honey?"

Buffy could feel her bottom lip tremble. "I-I … can't talk about it, please, mom. I can't see him."

Her mom backed off, still looking overly concerned.

Buffy swallowed the lump in her throat. "Hey …" she began in a fake chirpy voice. "It'll be fine mom, I just need to adjust."

* * *

Buffy was glad when everyone had left the house. Finally she could be alone with her thoughts and stuff and misery, and she had to do something! Starting with a long hot shower.

She drifted back up stairs.

"Focus, Buffy," she murmured. "You've made this world, you have to live in it, you'll adjust and at least you have your Mom back."

And she was back at College, studying Literature of all things. How the hell had she gotten talked into that? And spike was doing a doctorate in psychology.

She collapsed on to her bed in a fit of giggles that broke off in tears. In a strange way it made sense. Spike always had a way of seeing things for exactly what they were. He was astute. The numbing ache took residence in her heart again. She rubbed her chest, and decided she needed to stop moping and get on with things.

She checked her timetable. It seemed she didn't have a class till three o'clock this afternoon.

She had a shower, listlessly brushed the tangles out of her hair. Memories of the way Spike would gently stroke her hair returned in full force. _Why was the evil vampire playing with her hair, and why the hell was she liking it? She wanted to tell him to stop, but oh god it felt like heaven and she wanted this, wanted him._

'_Pretty hair, Slayer. It's so soft.'_

_And the way he trailed a curl around his fingers, sent hot sparks shooting down her spine, pooling in her groin._

A sob caught in her throat. Right now she hated the sight of herself. Hated her stupid pretty hair. She had been so damn self-righteous. It's no wonder he didn't love her in this world, wish or not.

She remembered the disgust in his eyes last night. His words … _'Riley, go dunk him in an ice bath and take your sick fantasies out on him. I'm gonna go home and scrub my brain or something.'_

Tears pooled in her eyes. He hated her. This Will hated her and he wasn't Spike. Spike was lost to her forever, she, in her stupid foolishness and blindness had really condemned him into oblivion.

She swallowed the sudden enormous lump in her throat and spying a pair of scissors on the vanity table, she reached for them. Without even thinking she began hacking her hair off.

She didn't want to be dumb stupid Buffy anymore.

Long strands of golden hair fell to her feet.

She didn't want to be a precious white princess. All the horrible words from last night, Zander, Will and even Willow's came back to haunt her.

She wasn't going to be that girl anymore.

She wasn't going to be anyone's girl.

She was going to be her. She was going to find the real her.

Lowering the scissors, Buffy gazed back at her reflection. No more feminine girly Buffy. She would be strong, resourceful and get on with life.

And she really had kinda made a mess of her hair. She probably should go to the hair salon and get it fixed, get it cut really short whilst she was at it.

Spinning around she began going through her drawers. God the other Buffy was a skanky hoe when it came to clothes.

Grabbing several large green garbage bags, she emptied all of her clothes into them. Anything that was pretty, flimsy, pink and girly, ugh. She kept the sensible clothes, which there weren't many off, but she did manage to find a pair of tracksuit pants that were blessedly not pink. She put the grey pants on, along with a white long sleeved top.

She eyed her reflection critically in the mirror. Wow, she was really curvy in this reality, what was with that?

Buffy somehow managed to function, adapting to this new reality. After throwing all of her clothes out, getting her hair cut into a really short bob sort of style, she came to the conclusion that she now needed new clothes, which then made her think of money.

She didn't have any money, but much to her delight when she managed to locate her handbag and purse she actually had a couple of hundred dollars tucked away.

That wouldn't last long though.

She should get a job.

Contribute to the household funds.

It just so happened that whilst at the local mall, the bakery was advertising for a job, no experience required. Great. She walked in. They gave her the job on the spot, and her hours were 4.30 to 8.30am Monday to Friday. Which was sort of perfect, though getting up at four in the morning would probably kill her.

She wanted to be kept busy, so busy in fact that she'd have no time to think or ponder or anything like that. And she needed to lose twenty pounds.

So her days consisted of the following; get up at four in the morning, work till 8.30am, come home, have breakfast, go for a run, come back, shower, go to College. Study in library when not at class. Leave College at 5.30pm, help mom with dinner. Work on assignments, or help Dawn with homework and fall into bed with exhaustion at around nine at night.

During the day she managed, but at nights, when everything was dark except for the street lights peeking through her curtains, Buffy would finger the short blunt ends of her hair and think of him – Spike. Did he miss her as much as she missed him?

She could imagine him sitting back on an dilapidated sofa in his crypt, all alone and just waiting. Waiting for her, and she being the bitch she was, making him wait, till she begins to hate herself so much that she still wished she had hair left to cut off.

She could see the sad resignation in his blue eyes, _'you win some and lose some, luv. That's just the way it works.' _He'd raise a hand to touch her cropped hair. _'You and me, just wasn't meant to be. This is your new reality now, Pet.'_

_He propped his feet up on an old battered coffee table, clasping one boot clad foot over the other. He gazed up at her through hooded eyes. 'You can fight it, you can do nothing but scream about what you've lost.'_

_He shoved his hands behind his head, shadows flickering in the dark blue depths of his eyes._

'_Or you can accept it, and try to put together something that's good.'_

'_Without you,' she wept. 'I-I can't do this … without you …'_

Buffy would wake in the morning to find her pillow damp with tears. She'd drag herself out of bed, and another day would begin.

This was after all … her new reality.

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**A/N: **I know this chapter is a sad one, but trust me there will be plenty enough humour, mixed in with a little bit of angst from time to time in the chapters to follow.

I would love to know what people think? Quite anxiously actually, as I've not EVER followed on from someone's story before. It's just that this story had so much potential that I couldn't help but to write it. I had to see how it all ends :)

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	2. Chapter 2

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_**Chapter 2.**_

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Will had avoided Buffy for the whole week. In fact he hadn't seen her at all. Not even on campus, but given her tendency to skip classes it was hardly surprising. She never visited the Bronze either, which was really unlike her. Xander and Willow never mentioned her, probably to save his feelings. He'd informed his dad that he wouldn't be able to take Dawn to school, or pick her up for a week. He needed his space. There was too much to get his head around.

"_Can't you try to fix things with Buffy?" his dad had pleaded._

"_Not yet. Don't want to see her."_

Such was the disgust he felt that he couldn't even bring himself to think about her, at first, but then the anger slowly subsided. He was beginning to think more rationally, but he still felt some trepidation when he went to pick up Dawn for school that morning.

'_Can we at least be friends? We were friends in that other world, and I miss it …'_

His hands tightened on the steering wheel as her sad, but hopeful face flashed before his eyes. Maybe he had been too harsh with his words that night? It's just … him a vampire in love with her … just the thought boggled his mind. And well she did make him think of Faith, even though they were nothing alike. They both had a certain energy about them that was appealing, but he never saw Buffy as anything other than his younger sister.

A brief memory of attempting to teach her to drive when she was Dawn's age came back to mind. He'd about had a heart attack. Her driving was horrible. Hence her never getting a driver's licence. He had teased her mercilessly about it, till she would beat him up. But it was all just brotherly, sisterly play fighting. Those days brought a tiny nostalgic smile to his lips. Those had been happy times. When he had lived there, lecturing Buffy about her fondness for junk food. Her telling him to piss off.

They had been close. Till Faith had come to town. A year older than Buffy, and both being Slayer's they became instant best friends.

Faith had fascinated him from the get go. With her feminine curves and long brown hair, her soulful eyes and a smile which could be both beautiful and hell sexy.

Buffy knew how he felt about Faith long before he summoned up the nerve to ask her out. She teased the hell out of him. Everything had been perfect, just sisterly, brotherly affection, unlike a week ago. Buffy coming on to him … was just horribly wrong.

He'd blurted everything out to Tara.

Tara in her infinite patience and wisdom tried to inform him that the Buffy he knew, wasn't quite the same girl. She didn't have those memories.

But he did, and part of him mourned the girl she had once been, the sister he'd now lost.

Pulling up in the driveway, he slowly climbed out the car.

What if she started to come onto him again? He shuddered at the thought. Hopefully she'd come to her senses over the last week.

He opened the door and called out. "Hello … just me."

Dawn came bounding down the stairs. She was a sight for sore eyes. Least he still had the Bit. She flew into his arms.

"Steady on, Nibblett."

She pulled back, anger and confusion flashing in her eyes.

"How come you haven't called by? It's been a whole week!"

"Sorry girl, just been busy."

Her shrewd eyes met his.

"You've been avoiding Buffy haven't you?"

That was Dawn, always straight to the point.

"No …" he began.

Her hand rested on her hip. "Did you two have a fight?"

He ran a hand up the back of his neck. "More a misunderstanding, Pet."

His eyes scanned the living room. "So where is she? In bed probably, still fast asleep. She's not much of a morning person …"

"She's at work," Dawn Interrupted.

His head whipped around to look at Dawn. "Say - what?"

"Buffy has a job in the mornings at a Bakery."

He blinked heavily, his tongue getting tied in his mouth.

A look of amusement crossed her face. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes," he managed to blurt out. "It's buffy here, hello!"

Dawn merely shrugged a slender shoulder. "She's kinda of changed a bit. Like she's still Buffy in a lot of ways, just she seems older and more grown up, and she agrees with mom, like all of the time."

Dawn rolled her eyes at that.

Will was finding it a bit hard to take in. Buffy never agreed with her Mom, they were always disagreeing and Buffy liked to party, hence the arguments.

"It's like having two moms around," Dawn snorted.

He managed to swallow. "I guess she had a lot of responsibility in that … other life."

He didn't like to think about it. It still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"But apart from that she's okay, right? No acting weird and stuff?"

"She hasn't gone crazy if that's what you mean."

Well that was a relief.

"If anything she seems … kinda more patient and understanding, which is nice. Oh and she threw out all of her clothes. She gave me some of her really cool tops, of course none of her skirts or shorts fit me, because you know she kinda has a big butt and all."

His head was reeling again. "Buffy doesn't have a big butt."

"According to her she does, and now she's fitted out the shed with gym equipment."

Had he just stepped into some bizarre world? Buffy wasn't a fan of exercise. She didn't really need to be, not with that slayer strength and all, but she often got out of breath. Which he always teased her about, _'you need to get off your ass pet and start running.'_ As usual she'd shoot him a furious look and scathing retort with it.

"She wouldn't give me any of her prettier strappy tops," Dawn continued, folding her arms. "She said she wasn't going to have her sister dressing like a skanky hoe."

Will just about choked, he grabbed the edge of the stairwell to steady himself. "Buffy said skanky hoe," he stammered, bewildered.

Dawn nodded. "Yep, and you should see what she wears now."

Was this something he needed to know? It would appear so, Dawn he could tell, was on a roll.

"Black jeans."

"Oh, well that's alright."

"And black t-shirts," Dawn continued.

Okay, so this Buffy had a liking for black clothing, whereas it used to be gaudy pink. That was in fact an improvement.

"And get this." Dawn held up a hand, obviously for shock effect. "Doc Martin boots."

He frowned … maybe that was a bit extreme. He was beginning to find it hard to imagine her so.

"So, I guess she's a bit of a tomboy, eh?" Which really boggled his brain.

Dawn's eyebrows shot up. "And that's not the half of it, you should see what she's done to her hair."

His frown deepened. This was getting worse by the minute.

"She cut it all off," Dawn continued with a dramatic wave of her hand.

"What?" he stammered, shocked.

Dawn's eyes widened. "It's like really short."

"How short?"

Dawn turned around and indicated with her hand to the base of her skull. "Like up to here, and it's all sort of layered, kind of like a bob, where it's longer on top, cut just above her ears, and parted to the side with a fringe."

Will was speechless again. What ... just exactly had their Buffy turned into? He could feel a headache coming on.

"Actually it kinda suits her. Mom just about had a fit."

He frowned once more. "I thought you said she wasn't crazy, Niblett!?" he exclaimed.

Dawn shrugged again. "She's not."

"Dawn is right. I'm not crazy," came Buffy's voice.

Since when did she get home? He couldn't remember hearing the front door open. He spun around to look at her. She was closing the door, and her cool gaze met his. His eyes swept over her, from the sneakers on her feet, black tracksuit pants and navy blue shirt to her recently cropped hair. Fuck, but Dawn wasn't joking when she'd said it was really short.

"What the hell did you do to your hair?!"

Her cool gaze didn't waver. "Duh, what does it look like?"

He was taken back for a moment. God, she still spoke the same. It was doing his head in, Buffy his sister, this girl who looked just like her, spoke like her, but wasn't her … and oh, hell. He didn't like this at all.

"You have the same stupefied look on your face that mom had, and you might want to close your mouth before you catch flies."

Then she had the cheek to smile.

He shut his mouth, worked his jaw. Damn, but she was annoying.

"You're still a smart ass," he muttered, and a brief smile titled up the corners of his mouth.

"Some things don't change," she said softly.

He knew what she meant, appreciated it. She was trying. It was weird seeing her dressed like a normal young woman, with her too short hair, that was a lot darker in colouring, probably her natural colour, her fringe with the blonde high lights, swept across her brow. Her face was strangely devoid of any make-up, and he was suddenly struck by how young she looked. But her eyes, they were older, much older, and she really wasn't the naïve girl he once knew.

It left a weird sort of ache in his heart that he couldn't explain.

"And you two better shoot off, otherwise Dawn will be late for school," she continued. "Oh, and Dawnie …" She held out a brown paper bag. "I got you your favourite doughnut."

Dawn took it from her, giving her a hug. "Thanks, Buffy, you're the best."

Will watched as the two sisters pulled apart, and Buffy tucked a strand of Dawn's hair behind her ear. It was such a motherly gesture, and he couldn't ever remember Buffy being so nice to her sister.

"Hey, I'll help you with that English assignment tonight," she continued.

Will was shell shocked, again. Buffy helping Dawn with her homework! What next? Could this day get any weirder?

"Anyway, I better go work on this assignment before class …"

"You're working on an assignment?!" he gasped. "Since when?"

Buffy glanced his way, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Since, I figured out I really don't want to end up working in some take-away greasy burger joint for a living. Because I've already been there and done that," she let out a breath. "Do you know how hard it is to get the smell of grease out your clothes?"

She shuddered. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her. Just who was this girl?

She smiled. "You know this assignment isn't going to write itself though I wish it would, so I'll see you two later."

She bounded up the stairs, taking two at a time and with the greatest of ease. He stood there frozen to the spot. His brain was hurting.

He felt Dawn place a hand on his arm, and he glanced at her.

"See I told you she wasn't crazy, just different but still her."

Different yeah, and different in a sort of … different but good way. And thank god she hadn't tried coming on to him again, though he doubted she'd do that in front of Dawn. In fact she pretty much acted as if that night a week ago had never happened. His shoulders sagged in relief. Maybe it'll all work out, Buffy it seemed was adjusting … in her own weird way.

* * *

Buffy shut her bedroom door and leaned against it, closing her eyes. Okay, that went okay, better than she thought it would, though he was the last person she had expected to see when she came home. She'd opened the front door, and there he was. His back towards her, and she caught his words, '_I thought you said Buffy wasn't crazy, Nibblet?!'_

God knows what they were talking about, but it was so obviously about her and just what was Dawn telling him? That's when she couldn't help saying. _'Dawn is right. I'm not crazy.' _Because she wasn't!

He'd turned around, his eyes widening in shock and horror when they rested on her hair. He obviously hated her haircut given his words, and that made her wonder if he was like Spike in that way? Spike would have made the exact same exclamation about her hair. _Don't be daft, Buffy_, she'd silently chided. _He's no longer Spike._ _He doesn't love you,_ and she couldn't even be sure if he even liked her. She hadn't seen him all week. He was avoiding her, and she was fine with that. She didn't want to see him, because it … hurt too much. But he was still a part of her life, and she didn't want him to hate her. She was prepared to be mature about this, because really what other choice did she have?

William wasn't Spike. Somewhere, over the last week, Buffy had come to rationalise that this William's memories of her were really that of a sister. That is all she would ever be to him.

It was probably better she had seen him this morning and not tonight. Least the awkwardness was out of the way, with only Dawn to witness it and not everyone else. Her mother had invited everyone over for dinner tonight, much to her protests.

"You can't hide from them forever, Buffy. They are your friends."

"But they don't like me anymore."

Her mom's face softened, as she pushed her hair from her forehead. Buffy had welcomed the tender touch. How she had missed it. Having her mom back again was the best thing ever. She would never take her for granted again.

"No, honey, they are just confused. I'm sure they'll grow to love this new Buffy, I know I have."

Buffy melted there and then on the spot.

"Except this hair," she continued. "But it'll grow out soon enough."

Buffy hadn't the heart to tell her mom that she would never have long hair again. It brought back to many painful reminders of Spike. She'd sent Spike to oblivion and her hair along with it. It seemed fitting somehow.

She wasn't that same selfish girl anymore. The girl that worried too much about what her friends would think. And the irony wasn't lost to her in this other alternate reality, it seemed Buffy here had had enough guts to go against her friends to be with Riley. Good on her.

She only wished she'd had the courage to do it when she'd had the chance.

* * *

Will sat back on the sofa, a scotch in one hand. The television was on, but he wasn't giving it much attention. He'd been at odds with himself all day.

Tara came into view. "Will?"

He glanced up at her. A small frown dented her forehead. "You seem distracted."

He looked at the glass in his hand.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he sighed. "Just been thinking."

She sat down next to him, her hand resting on his thigh. Reaching up a hand, he ran his fingers through her soft hair.

"It smells good," he murmured, raising a strand to his nose. "Don't ever think about cutting it short, luv."

She frowned in confusion and somewhat bemused. "Why would I? And that's an odd thing to say."

His eyes darted away from hers. "It's been an odd sort of day."

"What happened?"

He took a deep breath. "I saw Buffy this morning, when I was picking up Dawn."

Tara went still, her eyes curious. "She didn't try to come onto you again?"

He shook his head. "No, not at all, thank god. The thought of it …"

He fell silent and the memories of their encounter from a week ago came back to mind, causing him to inwardly wince.

"Will," Tara finally spoke besides him. "She was okay?"

"Um, yeah, surprisingly so." Raising his glass he took a sip. "She's, uh … different though."

"Well she does have a completely different set of memories to us."

The thought of that was still so hard for him to grasp.

"She's not my little sister anymore," he sighed. "I miss that."

He felt Tara's gentle fingers caress his cheek.

"She's kinda of all grown up. Still has the same smart ass mouth though."

A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "I'm glad that hasn't changed."

He took another swig of his Scotch. A puzzled frown on his forehead. "She has this whole tough girl look now, cut her hair short too."

Tara withdrew her hand and leant slightly forward to gaze into his eyes. "She cut her hair?"

He nodded. "Doesn't look like her."

He noted the surprise look on her face. "Don't you go doing anything daft like that?"

A slow smile crossed her face. "You know you can be strangely old fashioned at times."

"Yeah," he smiled in returned, "You're always saying I'm an old soul trapped in a young man's body."

She snuggled up to him. "A very handsome young man," she purred in his ear, her breath warm against his neck. She pressed her lips to his in a soft and tender kiss. He went to deepen the kiss, but she placed a hand on his chest, pulling back.

"I promised Joyce I'd make a plate for tonight."

He'd forgotten about that, damn it. He really wasn't looking forward to it. Socialising was all sort of strained now Buffy had returned with a different set of memories.

* * *

Buffy was attempting to whip the cream, but it just wasn't working out right. She always had been a lousy cook, but she wanted it to be perfect. She was nervous.

The back door flew open and Spike, no Will now, came barrelling through. He still made a dramatic entrance, minus the smoking blanket. He was carrying a tray, obviously something Tara had made. No doubt Tara was a perfect cook. Just like she was so perfect at everything, and Buffy quickly fought back the jealously before it even had a chance to surface.

"Where do I put these?" Will asked.

Buffy gestured to the bench. "Anywhere you can find room there."

Muttering under his breath about how there was no bloody room as he attempted to make room, her gaze lingered on him. He'd obviously not long washed his hair, the out of control curls brought a smile to her lips. He really was such a regular curly tops. Spike had worked so hard at keeping those curls hidden. She bit on her lip, damn. He was kind of gorgeous.

He glanced her way, a frown denting her forehead. "What are you smiling at?"

She shook her head. "Just you … you're such a Shirley Temple."

He scowled. "Don't call me that."

"Actually on closer inspection I'd had to go with SideShow Bob. Those curls are out of control, like they want to rule the world sort of out of control," she teased and the smile suddenly left her face. What the hell was she doing?

"I … um, do I often tease you?"

His face softened, a look of lost nostalgia flashing in his eyes. "Yeah, Pet, all the time."

She clicked her tongue. "Huh. And you hate it?"

He grinned. "Nah, I give it back just as good." Given the sudden mischievous twinkle in his eye, she didn't doubt it.

He raised an eyebrow. "And at least I've got hair, not like what you call this disaster for a haircut." Raising a hand he tugged on the ends of her hair.

Ouch, she deserved that. And this was weird, because in the other reality her and Spike just loved annoying each other. And now they … well in some ways that hadn't changed.

Her mom walked into the kitchen. Her face grimaced at the sight of Buffy splattered in flecks of cream.

"You let her in the kitchen?" she quipped, glancing Will's way.

He shrugged. "I'm afraid she was already in here when I arrived."

Her mom removed the beater from her hand.

"Honey, let me do that. You should go get changed, everyone will be here soon."

"I'm already dressed, Mom."

Will noticed how Joyce's eyes skimmed critically over Buffy's choice of attire. And he didn't blame her. Buffy could almost pass for a boy, and that thought bothered him. He just couldn't picture Buffy being anything but girly and feminine. This sudden change … what was with that? Is this how she was in that other timeline?

"Don't you want to put something a bit prettier on? Maybe a nice top," Joyce suggested.

Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Your Mom has a point, because that black shape-less top thingy leaves a lot to be desired for." He scowled at the offensive top. "And where the hell did you buy such an eye-sore garment and what the hell were you thinking when buying it?"

He was expecting a sharp elbow to his ribs.

Her eyes glittered, and she was pissed off, he could tell.

"I'm make sure I'll put on my prettiest dress for you next time, shall I?" she said in an eerily calm voice.

He let out a brief unsure laugh. "Funny, Pet."

She suddenly turned on him. "Do you always comment on my wardrobe?"

Picking up a handful of nuts from a nearby bowl, he popped one in his mouth, shrugging. "All the time."

"It's true, Buffy," her mom added.

She gritted her teeth and with annoyance, she poked him hard in the chest. "Don't – do – it – anymore."

He just frowned at her, as if that was ever going to happen. She tapped her foot on the floor.

"And are you like this with Dawn too?"

His face suddenly grew serious. "Oh, god," he began, "She's probably wearing one of your skimpy hand me down tops."

He abruptly disappeared out of the kitchen. "Hey Dawn, girl, bit. What are you wearing?"

Buffy just stood there rooted to the one spot, blinking. She could feel her mom hovering anxiously beside her.

"Well, that wasn't so bad now was it? You two are getting along okay."

Buffy could feel laughter bubbling up inside of her. This was so … ridiculous. Unable to hold it in, peals of laughter escaped her throat, causing her stomach to hurt and tears leak out of her eyes. Somehow or another, she managed to stumble up the stairs to look for a so-called nicer top to wear.

* * *

Buffy walked into Dawn's room and found her reading on her bed. Obviously Tara had distracted Will from tracking Dawn down.

"Hey, Dawnie, I'm going to need to borrow a top. Mom's not happy with what I'm wearing and neither is Will, for that matter."

"Will's never happy with what you wear," Dawn dismissed with a wave of her hand, before glancing up from her book. A frown dented her smooth forehead. "It is a bit hideous."

Buffy opened her mouth in protest, but what was the point. Dawn leapt off the bed.

"Okay, let me help you, because you seriously need all the help you can get."

Dawn began rifling through her wardrobe, eventually pulling out a jade blouse. "This colour will look great on you, matches your eyes." She held the blouse against her.

Buffy felt an attack of nerves assail her. Dawn must have noticed.

"Buffy, what's wrong?"

"I'm … scared, you know, and nervous. What if they don't like me? They said things last week … and they were kinda right … and …" she ran a hand through her hair.

Dawn hugged her. "Don't worry. I won't let them say anything horrible to you."

* * *

Willow, Oz, Xander and Anya all rocked up at the same time. Buffy wiped her hands anxiously on her black jeans as she opened the front door.

"Hi," she said in a cheery voice that belied her nerves.

Their faces fell at the sight of her rather drastic haircut. Would she ever hear the end of it?

"What?" she began in a nonchalant tone of voice. "Oz isn't the only one who gets to make a dramatic statement around here?"

Anya was the first one to speak. "Bad break up?"

Buffy frowned. "Huh?"

Xander's eyes lit up. "You broke up with Riley?"

"What … no … how did you …"

Anya shrugged. "Drastic hair cut just speaks of heart break. Girls do it all the time."

Buffy's mouth dropped open.

"What?! No. I just felt like a change." Though that was a total lie.

"Hey, yeah Buffy, change is good. You're all kind of tough girl beat demon's butt's kind of girl now." Willow gave the thumbs up. "I like it."

Buffy resisted the urge to smack herself out.

"Yeah, now the demons will see you coming Buffy and run in terror," Xander added, laughing at his own attempt to be funny, which kind of really wasn't that funny.

And just like that any awkwardness that could have, or did exist between them melted away with misguided humour.

* * *

Will watched on with amusement. Dawn, the Bit was being so protective over Buffy, never leaving her side and it was oddly touching. Those two were always bickering, now they were like best buddies. Buffy was trying to fit in, laughing and smiling with the others. Though she was nervous, he could tell. Those familiar gestures hadn't changed at all. She still twitched her nose from time to time, would often go to push her hair behind her ear, hair that was no longer there. Then a look of puzzlement would cross her face as if she wasn't used to her hair being short, which had him wondering if she wore it short or not in the other alternative reality. Judging by her actions he would say no. So why had she suddenly decided to cut it short now? She was a bit of an enigma. One he couldn't fathom.

They were sitting in the lounge room. Xander, Willow, Buffy and Dawn squeezed in together on the three seat sofa. Oz sitting crossed legged on the coffee table. Anya was perched on the arm chair next to Xander. Tara and he sat opposite each other in two single seat sofas.

"So, was Anya right," Willow began. "Have you broken up with Riley?"

Buffy stiffened, her eyes briefly met with his before they quickly rested on her clenched hands. He felt himself stiffen also. Good way to go, Red. Not that anyone knew what transpired between them that night a week ago, except for Tara.

"Um, yeah," she stammered. "I've called things off with Riley."

The room went quiet, Will noticed the secretly pleased looks on everyone's face. He felt the same, secretly pleased. It was a relief.

"What? Why Buffy? I hope it's not because of us," Willow enquired in an anxious voice.

Buffy shook her head. "No." And again went to push an absent strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes met with Willow's.

"Just that I broke up with him ages ago, and I kind of didn't feel that way towards him anymore. It wouldn't be fair to pretend."

Will's throat tightened, his angry words coming back to haunt him. _'What do you want me to do here, Buffy? Pretend I'm not in love with Tara? Pretend I'm not your brother? _He wanted to take those words back now, but maybe it was something she needed to hear? At the time he was confused and angry, but this new Buffy, she was different … she was older, wiser and also … sadder.

"And it has nothing to do with what any of you think of him. Fact is, yeah he did screw up with the Initiative, but he also really didn't know any better at that time, and I know that doesn't excuse what he did, but once he knew what was really happening he did try to fix things. He tried to help, but you all wouldn't let him, despite him saving Willow and Xander's life, no one thanked him. We all just treated him like crap, just because he wasn't one of us, just because he'd made mistakes. That doesn't mean we couldn't have said thankyou and that we couldn't forgive him …" her voice broke off there, and tears welled in her eyes.

He watched her mesmerised. Had she noticed the 'you' had now turned to 'we'? Was she still talking about Riley here? Then is dawned on him – Spike.

"Do you know how much it hurts him when you all give him the cold shoulder?"

A single tear trickled down her cheek. She hastily wiped it away. "I know he can't be trusted, but he's still …" she sucked in a wounded breath. "Feels."

"Oh, Buffy," Willow murmured, wrapping her arms around her. "I'm sorry."

Suddenly Will needed to get out of there, he needed air … he needed to … breathe. Quietly and quickly he left his seat and headed for the front porch.

Buffy hadn't noticed Will leave. Being caught up in Willow's embrace as she cried on her shoulder felt so good … so wonderfully and beautifully good … so right. Eventually she pulled back and gave a nervous laugh.

"Oh, god look at me. I'm such a pathetic sap."

Everything lightened up after that, they chattered just like old times and it was right. Like the world had fixed itself somehow.

They eventually began talking about patrolling, when Xander chimed up. "Where's Will?"

Buffy's eyes scanned the living room and rested on Tara.

"You know Will, he just needs time out …"

Buffy's heart plummeted.

"I shouldn't have mentioned Riley." She ploughed her fingers through her hair. "Just that I don't remember, but I know Will was hurt and …"

Tara held up a calming hand. "It's okay, Buffy. I'll go talk to him."

Buffy watched her walk out the room.

"Hey, don't worry, Buffy. If anyone can calm Will down its Tara," Xander said.

Of course, naturally. Tara always did have that affect over people. Even in this world she had the kindest heart. She could now see why Will fell in love with her.

Ignoring the sudden ache in her heart, she turned a bright smile to her friends. Hey, but at least she still had her friends, and her mom, Giles for a father and her relationship with Dawn was better than ever.

She could get through this.

She wasn't alone anymore.

* * *

Xander, Anya, Willow and Oz left at around eleven. Dawn had retired to bed. Tara and Will were in the kitchen, cleaning up and being domesticated. Buffy peeked through the door to see them in cosy closeness with each other. Tara must have told him something amusing given the warm smile on his face. Feeling like her heart was being ripped out, Buffy slipped outside to the back porch. The night had been great, but now she longed for solitude. She needed her space … she needed to be alone for a while. But the memories still had a way of haunting her. Spike striding across the back lawn, looking pissed off. Her, upset over her mom being ill. She remembered the tears, how much it hurt, how alone she felt. With tears streaming down her face, she had looked up to see him.

His face softening at the sight of her tears. '_What's wrong?'_

He had sat down next to her, patted her back in his half attempt to soothe her before they both sat, side by side in silence. He didn't ask questions. He didn't demand she talk. He just sat, his presence oddly soothing.

Hearing the back door swing open, Buffy stiffened.

"Buffy?"

Will's voice, oh, how ironic.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "I just needed some fresh air."

He sat down next to her, much like in the other now non-existent world.

"I didn't want you to feel bad for your speech about Riley. It was kind of gutsy, actually."

"It's okay. I know you were hurt. I just don't know how much … as you know." She lightly tapped her head. "Different memories."

Silence lapsed. An owl hooted in the distance. A breeze rustled the tops of the trees. Buffy could almost imagine that nothing had changed, until Will spoke.

"About last week," he began. "I was too harsh."

"Wouldn't be the first time by what I can gather."

He let out a brief pain-filled laugh. "Guess not."

She turned her head to look at him.

"It's okay Will. I don't love you."

Liar, liar, pants on fire. If only it were that simple.

"You are not him. I know that now. You just have his face." She took a deep breath. "You were right. I sent him to oblivion and now …" her breath caught in her throat. "I have to live with that for the rest of my life. You can't imagine how much that hurts." Picking up a stick she poked furiously at the earth. "It is as they say. You don't know what you have till it's gone."

Silence lapsed once again. She continued to dig up the soil with her stick. "Kind of really sucks too."

She took a deep breath. "I made the mistake of worrying about what my friends would think. I saw him only as a monster. I didn't want to love him. I wanted to hate him for making me feel." Her voice broke of as she attempted to keep the tears in check. "Truth is, he understood me better than anyone a-and I was just a stupid blind … bitch."

"No, Buffy, you are being a bit hard on yourself don't you think?"

She let out a mirthless laugh. "No. Trust me, I'm not."

Will hated seeing her this way. He didn't know what to say to make it right for her. In the past he always managed to get her out her moods, or whatever flunk she happened to be in. After Faith died, things had changed between them. He could no longer reach her. At times he resented her. If she had been there, none of what took place would have happened at the bowling club that night. Xander wouldn't have become a vampire and Faith wouldn't have died.

She also blamed him. _If you hadn't been too busy fucking Faith you could have stopped it all._

His eyes rested on her cropped hair. A lump formed in his throat.

"Why did you really cut your hair?" he had to ask.

She took so long to answer that he was beginning to think she never would.

"Spike liked it long," she finally murmured. "Didn't want any reminders. Hurts too much."

She turned sad pain filled eyes to his. "He's gone now, forever. And I'm moving on as best as I can."

She raised an eyebrow. "You did say - it is as it is."

So he had, and why did it all feel so wrong now. She scrambled to her feet.

"Thanks for the pep talk."

She glanced over her shoulder. "You should go home. Tara is waiting for you."

With that she turned on her heel and disappeared inside. Her words haunting him. _'Spike liked it long.'_

His words he had spoken to Tara, earlier tonight, returned. _'Don't you go doing anything daft like that.'_

'_You know you can be strangely old fashioned at times.'_

'_I know, an old soul trapped in a young man's body.'_

He sat there, feeling odd and kind of numb and weird. Tara eventually found him.

"Time to go home," she smiled in that sweet way of hers.

He wrapped his arms around her. "I'm so glad to have you. Don't ever leave me."

.

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* * *

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**A/N: **Okay, not sure what anyone thinks of this story, but hopefully this chapter had enough light hearted moments in it to keep people wanting to read and a little intrigued too? I would love to know! So if you like this story please leave a review. They are kind of like little nuggets of gold and very cherished.

Thanks for reading :)

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	3. Chapter 3

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* * *

_**Chapter Three.**_

* * *

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Over the next couple of weeks Buffy kept herself super busy. Keeping busy meant retaining her sanity. Of course she couldn't avoid Will. She saw him in the mornings when he picked up Dawn, but it was only brief. It was still torture though. Even just seeing him, no matter how brief, she couldn't help the feelings that would swamp her. What she had lost, now standing right in front of her very eyes, taunting her. And to make matters worse this Will was kind of sweet. He had a wicked sense of humour, was friendly and likeable. Spike always had been astute and quick witted, and likewise as Will. Will was everything Spike could have been if he'd been human, and it hurt. It hurt even more when she saw him with Tara, because it was so painfully obvious that he loved her.

As for the evenings, she patrolled briefly and never alone. Someone was always adamant that they be with her. She didn't argue, because it gave her the chance to get to know her friends all over again with their different set of memories to hers. Sometimes she felt sorely out of the loop. Whenever they talked about some past event she'd have no memory of, she felt saying _'I guess you had to be there.'_ It made her feel even lonelier.

Some nights it would be just her and Xander, now he was a vampire he proved much more useful. And sometimes Will joined them, especially if they were expecting a rougher night. How busy the night was depended largely on the moon tides.

Willow and Giles had been mapping demon activity extensively for the last year in this other timeline and could accurately predict what demons to expect, roughly how many and what they needed to fight them. However, sometimes, she just wanted to be on her own, with no one beside her. She had patrolled on her own a lot more in the other life, so what had changed with that?

She asked Xander.

"_You nearly died once,"_ he had told her. _"It was much earlier on when you were still kind of new at the whole slaying thing. You were only 15, and thought you could handle it all on your own, but you were outnumbered and luckily Will saved you just in time, but you were beat up pretty badly and even had to spend several days in hospital."_

Well that explained it. She had noticed when fighting that her fitness wasn't what it used to be. Despite running in the mornings, she really had no one to combat with. She'd set up the shed with some gym equipment, but it was slow going. She guessed it would take a few months to get her fitness and strength back to what it used to be.

Every day, especially when she saw Will, she cursed the wish. But coming home to see her Mom made it all worthwhile. It was like living with two extreme emotions in constant war with each other. She had her Mom back, but she'd lost Spike. It seemed either way she was cursed when it came to matters of her heart.

And even though she had her friends, would see Willow at College during break times, Buffy didn't socialise much. She spent her free time in the library studying. It proved a safe haven. A place where she didn't have to pretend everything was fine. She'd find some little nook to hide away in, her favourite place was a window seat in the dusty far corner of the library where no one noticed her. She was left to her own devices.

Generally speaking that was, but not today.

"Buffy?" came a familiar voice.

She glanced up startled to see Will, a most curious expression on his face.

"You … in this place, a library," he spluttered. "I had to rub my eyes to make sure I wasn't seeing things."

Great, the only other person who rarely was at the library would happen to spot her. In an odd way it was kind of amusing to see his reactions to the things she now did, that other Buffy so obviously didn't.

"Don't tell me," she remarked dryly. "Not only did other Buffy dress like a skanky hoe, but she barely picked up a book?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Something like that, and so you've always been studious?"

"No," she snorted.

He was clearly curious about her, and puzzled, she could see it in his eyes.

"Then … why now?"

She shrugged. "I took it for granted before."

Buffy shifted across the seat, letting him sit down next to her.

"You know my Mom died. I'd not long turned 20. It was just me and Dawn. There were bills to be paid and we needed money. So I had to quit College and go to work."

She tried to sound matter of fact about it all. Lots of young women were in the same boat as her.

"That would have been rough," he said sounding genuinely sympathetic.

Her gaze shifted away from his. Sometimes it really did hurt too much looking at him.

"I guess, but now in hind sight," she began, taking a deep breath. "I wished I hadn't taken so much for granted."

She gazed out across the rows of desks. Dust particles floated on the sun beams that poked through the heavy curtains.

Will was quiet.

She had said too much, again.

She had to get away from him. Glancing at her watch, she noted the time. "I've gotta go to class." Grabbing her books, she quickly and awkwardly stood up.

She chanced a glance back at him, noting the thoughtful expression on his face.

"I'll never take anything for granted again."

Will watched her walk away. Unable to explain the sudden tightness in his chest. Maybe it was, because, despite how brave she appeared to be, he could see the flicker of uncertainty and pain in her eyes. What made it worse was knowing he was the cause of it. The thought of hurting Buffy bothered him, a lot. Quite often he didn't know how to approach her, or what to say. He tried acting as if nothing had changed, but who was kidding. Everything had changed, and it would never be the same. And this Buffy liked doing things on her own, as he found out later that night.

He and Tara had gone over to his Dad and Joyce's house for dinner, as was the once a week ritual. Family times were the best, he loved it, teasing Dawn, arguing with Buffy. That much hadn't changed, but she retired to bed early.

He went to empty the trash in the bin outside when he spied her creeping out the back door. She was dressed all in black, wearing that leather duster coat he hated and with a stake in one hand.

"What are you doing?"

She jumped startled, resting a hand on her chest. "You scared me," she hissed. "Not that it's really any of your business, but I was just going to do some patrolling. Was feeling all angsty and restless."

"On your own?! Are you mad?!"

She merely rolled her eyes. "I do it all of the time."

He was shocked for a moment. "Since when?"

"Look, Will. I can take care of myself. I know you all like to mollycoddle me in this timeline, but in the other one I often went out on my own. So back off!"

He held his hands up, eyes widening. "Okay, but let me go with you …"

"No. I need to be alone."

He gazed at her wordlessly. "Last time that happened you nearly died."

"Trust me, Will. I can handle it on my own."

He let her go with mixed emotions. This new Buffy was so fiercely independent. He didn't know what to make of her. He stumbled inside the house, to the living room.

"Were you talking to Buffy?" Joyce asked, sudden concern written all over her face. "I thought she had gone to bed."

He ran a hand up the back of his neck. "I ... she … went patrolling."

His dad looked up from the book he was reading. "On her own!" he exclaimed.

"I offered to go with her, she didn't want me too."

"Son, you shouldn't have let her go."

He flung his hands in the air. "Hello, Buffy here."

* * *

Somehow or another they talked him into following her. He finally found her in the graveyard, keeping a healthy distance so she wouldn't know he was there. She was in full Slayer alert. He had to admit that it was hot to watch. He'd loved that about Faith. Funny, but Buffy had never really made him feel that way, but then she was Buffy, his sister and she was … kind of just so girly, back then. He spied a vampire creep up behind her. He was about to call out, but Buffy sensing the vampire staked him before he even had a chance to register it.

He sighed, relieved. It was just one vampire … and what the bloody hell. His eyes widened at the sight of three demons that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Moving to help her, he stopped. Buffy wanted to be alone. He wanted to see if she really was as capable as she said she was. If she looked like she wasn't, he would jump in.

He watched her fight off the three demons. They didn't stand a chance. She was … she was something else, a hell of a fighter. There was a wiry edge about her, that he couldn't ever remember her having so much before. And the way she fought, full of energy, but also strangely graceful. Like it was just a dance to her, a dance between death and life, one she was always going to win. She tried so hard, and she never gave up. She just kept trying even when the odds seemed stacked against her. She always managed to find a way out.

He couldn't help admiring her, spell bound by the way she deftly killed them all.

He was so lost in his admiration that he didn't see her storm towards him till she was full on standing in front of him, hands on her hips and looking pissed off.

"Why are you following me?!"

He blinked at her, and before he had the chance to reply, she shoved him hard in the chest, causing him to fall on his ass. Hell but she was so strong!

"I … um, ease up Buffy, it wasn't my doing."

He managed to scramble to his feet, embarrassed. His dignity had been hurt. Hell, but she didn't need to be so volatile.

"Joyce would kill me if anything happened to you."

It was hard to let go of his protective instincts towards her. But this Buffy, she was … so different, and yet he still felt oddly protective over her.

"Dad and Joyce insisted that I follow you," he pointed out.

Her face softened, just a fraction. "As you can see I can take care of myself."

He rubbed his sore butt. "Yeah, saw that, you're a hell of a fighter, pet."

Buffy couldn't help feeling a bit chuffed by the compliment. She could clearly see the admiration on his face.

"A lot better than I've ever seen before."

She suddenly felt bad for shoving him so hard. He wasn't Spike, and it was just kind of instinctual. And she hated herself for being that way.

"Sorry about pushing you over," she murmured.

"I'm alright. You're a lot stronger than I recall."

"Not at my best still," she shrugged off. "I've gained weight and I'm not as fit as I used to be."

He was momentarily shocked. Gained weight? If anything the weight had been falling off her lately.

"Nah, you look good."

"My muscles are kind of soft now, not at all like they used to be."

Used to be … he looked at her wordlessly. "What were you before? Just some killing machine that had forgotten how to be a girl?"

She bristled at that. "No."

Then her shoulders sort of slumped. "Maybe, in part," she continued.

"Hell, Buffy, you used to be really …" his voice broke off there as her frown deepened.

"Used to be what."

Oh, bloody hell, he might as well give it to her straight. "Kind of … chubby."

Her frown deepened. "Kind of?! You were about to say really."

He rubbed once again at his sore butt.

"Okay, well you were no light weight, even being just a bit of girl, but you were … chubby."

Her eyes widened.

"When I first met you that was," he quickly continued. "You know I was in my senior year and you were just a mere 14 year old."

She was still frowning.

"And then I happened to stumble across you, and saw you dust this vamp right before my eyes. Your first time pet, and I've never forgotten the shocked look on your pretty face."

"Pretty," she snorted. "You mean my fat face and I probably looked like one of those chipmunks and you forget Dawn's always been the pretty one."

His jaw clenched. "Are you going to let me finish this?"

She shoved her hands in the duster's pockets. "Okay, continue."

"Thank you, your royal highness," he drawled with much sarcasm.

What was that in her pocket? It felt like. She pulled it out, and her eyes widened at the packet of cigarettes in her hand.

"You told me you have given up!" Will exclaimed. "You lied to me."

She frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"You and smoking."

"I smoke now?!"

She was gobsmacked, what the … hell!

"No … that's so stupid and retarded, and you're the one who smokes."

A look of total disbelief crossed his face. "I've never smoked!"

"What are you? Mr Perfect now?"

He blinked, and took a deep breath. "Okay, this is getting a little weird, so let's just focus and give me that packet of smokes right now, Buffy."

She threw the packet at him, almost expecting him to light one up, but what he did next totally shocked her. He pulled the cigarettes out, broke them all up and deposited them in a nearby rubbish bin.

"Those things will kill you, pet."

Her mouth dropped open. He wasn't at all like Spike, and that familiar pain tore at her heart again. He was kind of a goody two shoe and she … really didn't like it.

"Do you think I can finish what I was trying to tell you before," he muttered.

She merely saluted.

He rolled his eyes. "You know there are times when I feel like killing you."

"Feelings mutual," she retorted.

A slow grin crossed his face, before he broke out in laughter. Buffy found herself doing the same. God, there were moments when he was so like Spike and moments when he was just William and it was all so weird and strange, and kind of painful too.

"So, you going to continue with your trip down memory lane?"

He merely scowled, looking slightly put out. "I'm only trying to help you …"

"With memories I no longer have?" she finished for him.

Shadows of pain flickered in his eyes. "Something like that."

She perched herself on top of a tomb.

"Okay, I'm all ears."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he scowled at her. "I'd hate to bore you."

A hint of a smile hovered on her lips. "I really do want to hear it."

His smile was so instant and full of warmth. It made her heart ache.

"Right then," he began. "You'd just dusted this vamp, much to your shock and then you merely pulled a lollipop out of your pocket, of all things, and began sucking on it, and sort of crying at the same time."

A look of soft nostalgia crossed his all too handsome face. "Just a bit of a girl really, but I knew you were the next Slayer."

"A bit of a girl, when I was so fat?"

He snorted and rolled his eyes. "It didn't bother you then. In fact when I took you to see my dad, and he promptly told you to slim down you more or less told him to piss off."

A thoughtful look crossed her face. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

"You didn't want to know about it, Buffy."

"You mean the Slayer part?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

She remembered, it seemed that much hadn't changed.

"Then my dad felt compelled to tell your mum all about you being a slayer, and well they kind of liked each other and before any of us knew it they got married."

"I'm kinda cool with that, I've never seen my mom so happy, and I kind of secretly wished at times that Giles was my father."

His face took on an odd wistful look. "You did?"

She nodded, and he sat down on the tomb stone alongside her. "Yeah, when he told me he was going to leave, that I was too dependent on him. I was so gutted."

"He said that," Will exclaimed. "He was going to leave you, what an ass."

"It was kind of the final straw. That's why I got so drunk that night, that's why I said all of that stuff to that nice lady sitting at the bar."

Buffy raked a hand through her hair. "I had no idea she was some vengeance demon. I thought she was just some nice woman who was willing to listen to my drunken rant."

She took a pain filled breath. "I just needed … to talk … I was so angry."

Will's hand patted her back. "It's alright, pet. Not your fault really and well it all turned out okay."

Shadows skittered across her face. "In some ways, yeah, I guess. I have my mom back and I still have Dawn and my friends. It's all good again."

But I don't have you, she felt like adding. Well, that wasn't entirely true. She still had him, in a way, just not in the way she wanted. But he cared about her, and well, that was better than nothing, right?

"Was I really so chubby?" she grumbled.

Will let out a low chuckle. "Yeah, but still cute in your own way. Then you went and lost the weight, being a slayer and all I guess that was gonna happen, and then boys began to notice you and you noticed them and then you started dressing all kind of raunchy and …"

She promptly elbowed him. "Just shut up."

A slow grin crossed her face. "You always talk too much."

She was starting to feel restless again. Maybe it was this sudden easy camaraderie between them. She found herself wanting to be with him, spend time with him in whatever way she could, despite how much it hurt.

"I really need to train or something," she muttered.

Jumping to her feet, she glanced back at him, an idea taking hold. "You want to fight?"

His mouth promptly dropped open. "What?"

She rolled her eyes. "You know, fight Will. Practice and all."

He blinked. "You want me to fight you?"

"You think you can beat me?"

He blinked again. "What?"

God, he really was so clueless now.

"Let's go, spar a little so I can kick your ass."

He stood up, raking a hand through his hair. "Buffy … I."

"Seriously, Will. You have no way of beating me."

His back straightened, and he glanced at her through his narrowed eyes. God, he looked so much like Spike in that moment.

"Is that a challenge?"

She grinned. "Yes."

Then they were at it. Fighting, as if it were a dance, just like the one Spike had once taught her. And it felt good, exhilarating. She could see he was enjoying it just as much as her. And just when she thought she had him, much to her surprise he'd tricked her and had her flung onto her back, leaning over her. His smile wide and so beautiful. "I got you now girl."

"It would seem that way," she grunted.

But she still had a little surprise in her arsenal. She easily flipped him over, the wooden stake pressed at his heart. "You don't know me."

She was lying on top of him, probably squashing him with her so called hefty weight now.

"Alright Buffy. You got me … can't breathe."

She'd momentarily forgotten he was now human and quickly sat up. She ran a hand through her tangled hair. "Sorry."

He also managed to sit up, looking winded, his tousled curls enticing her to want to smooth them.

"Jesus, Buffy, you … you certainly know how to knock a bloke around."

He winced, making her feel bad.

"Did I hurt you?"

"Only my ego. Not every day that I get beaten in a fight and by a girl at that."

"Sorry."

He gave her a shrewd look. "No you're not. Admit it, you loved every minute of it."

She couldn't help the grin crossing her face. "Kind of."

* * *

Her and Will would spar with each other regularly. His own fighting skills were improving as a result. So were hers. She had to keep reminding herself that he was no longer a vampire, and he could hurt more easily. Xander would also join in with the fighting. They often faced each other in single combat, but it wasn't as good as when she fought Will.

Xander, however, was one amazing fighter now, being a vampire, but she could still beat him, much to everyone's astonishment.

"Wow, Buffy, you fight even better than Faith now," Willow gushed, making her head swell.

At least that was something. Faith may have stolen Will's heart, but she was now better at fighting. However, it was small consolation.

He'd loved Faith.

He loved Tara.

He would never … ever … love her. He only loved the way she fought.

* * *

Will had allowed his dad to rope him into researching a particular demon that had been sighted, and one he knew nothing off. Seeing as Tara was out, and he had nothing better to do, Will agreed. Dawn kept him entertained, helping with the research. Once she went to bed, his boredom increased. It was with great relief when his dad said he was going to bed.

Will was just about to head home when he found Joyce sitting at the kitchen bench, deep in thought, looking all worried.

"Joyce," he began, surprised at seeing her up so late at night. "Is something wrong?"

She sighed. "Yes and no."

He sat down next to her. She made him a hot chocolate, as she always did.

"I've even got marsh mellows," she smiled.

"I can see why my dad married you."

She playfully elbowed him, but there was still that sad look in her eyes.

"What's wrong?"

"Buffy."

Naturally.

"What has she done now?"

"Nothing really, she's a good girl, more helpful than ever just that I can't help worrying."

"Go on."

"I mean look at her, Will. She looks more like a boy than a girl these days."

"Yeah, I kind of noticed."

"She's not at all remotely feminine."

He nodded in agreement.

"Not to mention that haircut is so short."

"Yep, noticed that too," he said, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

"What is with that?"

He could hardly tell her. "Look Joyce, I know she might be having a kind of identify crisis at the moment, but Buffy is strong, she's okay. It'll be alright."

He had to believe that. Joyce had to believe it too.

"You don't think she happens to be a lesbian?"

He just about choked on his hot chocolate. "No!" Definitely not. And he couldn't hold it in anymore. "Look Joyce, in that other crazy life of hers she was …" Oh hell, how did he say it? "You know I was a vampire and apparently you still liked me, so did Dawn. And I wasn't really so evil after I had some chip planted in my head, and Buffy … well she kind of hated me and then she sort of loved me … I think … and well she can't quite let it go, and she doesn't see me as her older brother anymore … she kind of sees me differently now."

"What are saying Will? That she loved you?"

He shifted uncomfortably on his stool. "Yes."

Much to his surprise Joyce didn't look very shocked by this news.

"I guess she's already told you that, huh?"

Joyce shook her head. "No, not recently that is. Not for many many months."

He froze. Many months? What the hell was Joyce on about? Buffy had only been back for one month. Well this new, kinda improved Buffy that no longer really resembled his sister anymore. In fact he had kinda stopped seeing her as his sister and … when did that change? Pretty much since she lobbed all her hair off and started dressing more like a Goth chick.

She just didn't look the same. Sure it was still her, same hazel eyes, same face and same smile, just not his kid sister Buffy. Same smart ass mouth though.

She appeared years older, wiser and a lot smarter.

She wasn't a girl.

She was a young woman now. A young woman who happened to love fighting as much as he did, and who could also whip his ass, much to his chagrin. Kid sister Buffy, he often had to drag on patrol with him. She would be whining about how this was impacting on her social life, or she had some party to go to and now she'd broken a nail, or her hair was too sweaty. She needed to go home and have a shower to wash it so she could get to the Bronze and on and on and on.

He slowly turned his head to look at Joyce. "What are you saying?"

"You really are so blind at times, Will."

He blinked, slowly shaking his head. "Are you saying, Buffy, sister version was in love with me?"

He scowled at the thought. "That's insane, Joyce!"

Joyce merely rolled her eyes. "That's what she told me. In fact she said she had always loved you."

"As a brother."

Joyce flung up her hands in frustration. "Truth is, Will. Buffy was 14 and you were 18 when your dad and I married. You might have seen her as nothing more than a kid sister, but she certainly didn't see you as a big brother."

There were so not having this conversation. It couldn't be true because … "I would have known," he blurted out.

"Sometimes we see only what we want to see," she softly said.

"B-But why didn't she ever tell me?"

"Do you blame her? Faith came along two years later and you only ever had eyes for her. Then Faith died, and she knew how much you loved her. She knew that you would never love her, and so she moved on with Riley."

He sat there, totally stumped, not knowing what to think.

"If you don't believe me ask her …" Joyce began, then breaking off there as realization dawned.

"Yeah, different set of memories now," he finished for her.

Joyce let out a brisk laugh.

"How ironic," she mused. "Seems Buffy loved you in both realities."

"Only in the other one she wished she didn't and …" his voice broke off there at Joyce's pointed stare. "Oh, bollocks. She probably wished the same here too."

She sighed and that's all the confirmation he needed.

He ran a hand up the back of his neck feeling like crap. "It's kinda complicated isn't it?"

Joyce raised her mug and took a sip, her expression still glum. He now felt bad.

"I can tell you one thing, Joyce, about this Buffy," his voice sounding hoarse. "She's … a bit more jaded. Not so naïve." Or innocent, but he didn't have the heart to tell Joyce that. "She's kind of independent and stronger, both mentally and physically. And I know she will be fine."

Joyce managed a grateful smile.

"Besides she doesn't love me now. It's Spike that she loves."

Spike she had sent to oblivion. Was he really so different to him? Sometimes she mentioned him, sometimes she still got things a little mixed up, like the other night. They had been fighting when she'd accidentally really hurt him.

He'd tried to hide it, but she wasn't buying it. She tugged his shirt up and a look of horror crossed her face as she saw the extent of his bruises. She raised shocked eyes to his.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" she gasped.

Her hands gently slid over his ribs, and down his side. It felt oddly soothing. He noticed the tears beginning to pool in her eyes.

He grabbed her hands. "Hey, Buffy. It's okay … you know I heal quickly, right."

Her expression became confused and angry. She yanked her hands from his, stepping back from him. "Why did you let me hurt you like that?!"

She pushed both hands through her hair, tugging on the short ends, a tortured, bewildered look in her eyes. Was she talking to him as Spike now?

"You shouldn't have let me treat you like that!"

He remembered how the tears were streaming down her face and panicking. What the hell did he do?

"Buffy, just calm down …" He held out a hand towards her. "It's Will here. I'm not Spike."

Her gaze hardened. She gritted her teeth. "Don't say his name."

If looks could have killed, he would have been dead.

"And I know who you are. You're not a vampire anymore. You can easily die!"

Pain streaked across her face, as she stumbled back from him. "Next time, be fucking honest when I hurt you."

He'd watched her storm away, thinking how bloody well difficult she could be. But seeing the depth of pain on her face, made his own heart ache. He hadn't wanted to tell her she had hurt him, worried that she wouldn't fight with him anymore. He loved the way she fought. It made him feel strangely alive. All of his five senses were on full alert.

When they fought, they were two different people.

Something would shift.

She was his equal. His other half and it felt right.

The back door swung open, startling him back to present day. Buffy came striding through, a frown denting her forehead. She appeared deep in thought. The sight of her made him feel … happy, in an odd way.

"Your home late tonight?" Joyce spoke.

Buffy, looked up, blinking in surprise as if she hadn't even noticed them. "I was at College."

"Studying?" he asked. He glanced at the clock. It was nearly eleven.

"I have this stupid assignment, and I don't get what I have to do," she grumbled.

"You need some help?" he offered.

Her frown deepened. "I thought you studied psychology?"

"I also have a minor in Literature."

He did? Was there nothing he wasn't good at now? It was so damn annoying.

"What about Tara …" she began.

"Girls night out."

Oh, that's right. She had forgotten about that, giving Willow some lame excuse as to why she couldn't make it.

"Why didn't you go out with them, Buffy?" her mom asked.

She could see the questions in her eyes, and Will's.

"I-I … just didn't feel like it."

It was hard to explain how she always felt a bit on the outer now. Sure she could go out and party and pretend that her other life had never existed, that it didn't matter and that her memories were completely different to theirs.

No one understood what that felt like.

"Plus I have this assignment due tomorrow."

Her mom was frowning with consternation. Will just had that dazed, _'who are you exactly'_ look on his face, which she was starting to get used to now. "I could do with your help, Will."

Again, Buffy inwardly cursed how much she enjoyed time spent with him.

They moved into the lounge room. Buffy plonked herself down on the sofa, and reached in her bag for the assignment task brief. Will sat down on the coffee table. She handed the sheet to him and watched on with amusement as he pulled out his reading glasses.

Giving her a quick glance, he merely snorted. "Don't say it."

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "It's just so strange seeing you look all kind of nerdish."

He raised an eyebrow. "I take it the other me didn't need glasses?"

The question had her thinking. "I guess it could be that he was a vampire …" her words trailed away. What about before he became a vampire, when he was William? She knew nothing of who he used to be, except for what he had told her _'what can I say - I've always been bad.'_ Had he really been?

If this was her wish, then why did William have glasses? Then she remembered the picture of him in one of Giles history books about Vampires. In it was a photo taken before he was turned in which he wore glasses. The memory must have stuck in the back of her mind.

She could see the curiosity in Will's eyes.

"You look lost in thought, pet."

She blinked. "Um … was just thinking."

"About Spike?"

"About how I know nothing of who he had been as William?"

Why hadn't she ever asked him? _Because you didn't give a shit_, she silently berated.

"Guess I never will now," she sighed. "I guess … it doesn't matter anymore."

Much to her chagrin, a single tear rolled down her cheek. She felt Will's hand rest on her shoulder, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. This was her penance. This is what she deserved. A caring and kind, but still sassy and quick witted Will, aka Spike, who would never love her whilst she was destined to forever love and mourn him.

"Don't beat yourself up about it, Buffy." He sounded so sincere. It made the ache in her heart intensify.

"It'll get better," he continued. "You'll see."

He brushed a strand of hair back from her forehead in an affectionate gesture. It would be all too easy to lean on him, cry on his shoulder and it sucked.

She angrily brushed the tear away, stiffened her shoulders and looked him directly in the eyes. She forced a smile to her lips. "I know."

Liar, liar, she was getting so good at it now. Maybe with time she would be able to move on, but right now she couldn't see it.

Will returned his attention to the task sheet, wincing slightly.

Buffy suddenly remembered how badly she'd hurt him the other night. She had felt so awful. Once home, she had sobbed into the night, remembering all the times she'd carelessly hurt spike, and how she could now never fix it.

"How are your ribs?" she asked, wanting to not remember that other, more painful timeline.

"Like you I heal quickly."

He did? Or was he lying?

"Let me see."

"It's fine."

"You just winced."

Lowering the paper, he grumbled. "If it'll shut you up."

Sighing, he lifted up his shirt. Leaning forward, she closely inspected the now fading bruises, resisting the urge to touch him. Damn those abs of his, and her mouth went dry. _Focus Buffy,_ she silently chided.

It would seem Will was right. The bruises had significantly reduced. She raised a questioning gaze to his.?"

He lowered his shirt, shrugging.

"No one knows. Seems I'm a bit of a mystery. I guess when you made your wish, you made me human, but left me with all the fighting skills I would have had as a vampire. It's obvious that's what you admired about him … me …" he stammered. "Because I feel it when we fight."

His eyes blazed as they met with hers. Buffy's breath hitched in her throat. How did he know that? Is that what he felt?

"It was only then that he was your equal wasn't it?" he continued, his expression guarded.

She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. They had to get off this topic. It hurt too much.

"Maybe we shouldn't do it anymore?"

He shook his head. "No. I want to. Dancing with you, Buffy. It … it makes me feel alive."

She was mesmerised by the intensity in his very bright, very blue eyes.

If that's all they had left now, then she would dance with him.

"Me too," she whispered.

.

.

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* * *

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**A/N:** Thanks for reading! I could really do with some inspiration in the way of reviews. I know how this story ends, but I've not written beyond this point. If people are really keen for me to continue then let me know and I'll give it my best. I'm a bit slow with updates, mostly due to time and the state of my writing muse.

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	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **Really VERY sorry about the long wait since the last chapter. Just had a bad case of writer's block which I couldn't seem to budge, but now that I'm on a two week break from work I've found some time to get my writing muse flowing again. It's still a little rusty but it's getting there, albeit slowly.

Thanks so much for all the reviews of encouragement on the last chapter. I have no intentions of abandoning this story, and as it's not going to be a long one I will finish it.

Enjoy!

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* * *

_**Chapter 4. **_

* * *

_**.**_

_**.**_

Voices whispered along the chilly winter's breeze. Buffy moved, stealth like through the cemetery, the fog swirling around her.

'_Don't you see', _a shadowy voice taunted, '_it's too late now my sweet … the Slayer got you after all. I told you it's dark where she is'. _The eerily familiar voice broke off with a whimper.

"Drusilla," Buffy gasped, spinning around and seeing her dark figure emerge from the mist. But it couldn't be … she was now dead … wasn't she?

'_Kill her. Kill her. Kill her. But no, Spike couldn't kill you.' _Her mournful voice echoed through the darkness. Buffy felt a perverse coldness seep into her bones.

Drusilla swept around her as she froze on the spot. Her dark eyes glittered. _'You didn't see. My poor William.' _Her face softened into a look of pure adoration. _'So alone. He'd been alone for too long.' _Drusilla swept a hand across Buffy's cheek. She shivered, unable to move away. _'I showed him the light you see," she continued. "He was a man surrounded by fools. Just like you," she jeered. "But I saved him. Made him my prince. My Spike … so full of light. I was his princess. He would adore me.'_

She turned suddenly, her face morphing into the demon she was.

'_But you stole him away,' _she growled, a hand snaked out and wrapped around Buffy's throat. Drusilla's eyes flashed with a mixture of hatred and sorrow._ "Didn't see his light. Didn't see his beauty. Didn't see his strength. You are no better than the shallow people of his time that spurned him. That led him down his dark path that led him straight to me."_

Buffy fought to break free of the thrall that bound her._ "No," she got out in a strangled voice. "You made him a monster." _

Drusilla's face hardened as she bared her fangs. Buffy frantically reached to grab the stake from her pocket as Drusilla lowered her fangs to her neck. Adrenalin coursed through Buffy's body as she drove the stake through Drusilla's heart.

But there was no relief. Much to Buffy's horror Drusilla's face vanished, only to be replaced with Spike's. Shock, then betrayal crossed his face. His beautiful blue eyes widened. _ "Buffy …" _a gasp broke from his lips before he turned to dust.

Complete horror washed over her, along with a deep, gut wrenching pain. She dropped to her knees. Sobs racked her body.

'No. No. No. Nooooooo.' Her hands grappled at the pile of ash that vanished and slipped through her fingers. "Spike … please … come back … Spike."

* * *

Buffy sat bolt upright in her bed, heart pounding in her chest. She ran a trembling hand through her sweat drenched hair. Tears were coursing down her cheeks.

"What have I done," she rasped and took deep gulping breaths. "I have to fix this."

Scrambling out of bed, she reached for her phone. She had to talk to Anya. Such was her desperation, such was the raw pain in her heart. Maybe Anya would have some answers to this new torment of hers. That was the third time she had had that dream this week. And it was starting to really get to her.

Buffy couldn't help feeling she had made a horrible mistake. A mistake that had to be fixed somehow, only she had no idea how. Anya was once a vengeance demon. She had to have some answers. And despite Anya telling her nothing could be done there had to be something she could do! But she couldn't ring her at three in the morning. Painful as it was she would have to wait.

Buffy reluctantly put her phone back on her bedside table, and wandered downstairs.

There was no going back to sleep after that dream. She tried watching television. She paced a lot.

Time dragged by. Drusilla's mocking voice echoed in her head_, 'naughty Slayer, changing everyone's fate like that.'_

Buffy clutched handfuls of her hair. "Get out of my head," she growled.

She felt like tearing her hair out. How much could a person possibly beat themselves up over wrong decisions?

Buffy took her frustrations out on the punching bag in the shed.

Dawn had taken a terribly long time coming that morning. Once the suns morning rays peeked through the wooden slates of the shed window, Buffy left the shed and bounded up the stairs of the house to retrieve her phone.

Heart pounding in her ears, she waited for Anya to pick up.

"Hmm … mmm … this better be important," came Anya's sleepy voice.

"It's Buffy. Sorry to wake you at this hour, but …" her voice broke off there as she fought back a fresh wave of tears. "I have to talk to you."

* * *

They met at the café near the bakery Buffy worked at. She poured out her pain and the dreams and there had to be some kind of answer … right?

"But Drusilla is dead, right?"

Anya tilted her head to one side. "Well not technically, least not in your mind."

That was the whole problem, her mind and her memories which she couldn't alter. She shot Anya a desperate look. "There is nothing I can do?"

A thoughtful expression crossed Anya's face before she spoke. "Every wish has a little catch."

"A catch?" Buffy frowned. "Like what?"

"Like a clause, like if you wished that Spike didn't love you then possibly if you were to make him fall in love with you … somehow … then that could change things."

Buffy's heart sank.

There was no way she could ever hope to make Will fall in love with her when he was completely besotted with Tara, and even if she could what would it change exactly? And hadn't that been the main part of her stupid wish to begin with.

"But … how … but," she spluttered.

Anya pursued her lips. "I think you are just going to have to accept it Buffy. This … now," she waved her hands through mid-air. "You made this. It can't be undone."

A sense of hopelessness washed over her. She buried her face in her hands. Anya patted her back.

"Look on the bright side."

She had been trying too and it should be getting easier … shouldn't it?

"I just want him back," she whispered, so softly that Anya hadn't appeared to hear her.

"Everything is better now when you really think about it."

Buffy lowered her hands to the table. For everyone else yes, sort of, and yet … not for her.

"It would be easier if Drusilla would stop haunting me."

Anya's attempt at sympathy always left Buffy feeling like it was more forced than anything. There was no point in discussing this any further.

"I have to get to class."

* * *

She really was just going through the motions. Ironically so, just like before, with the whole singy demon thing. She tried to be upbeat, positive and all but the dreams kept coming and it was getting her down. Why was Drusilla haunting her? Possibly because she was insane and maybe she was ending up the same way?

Buffy had to laugh at that. It was a sick sort of justice after all. And it really … sucked.

Will and Tara had stopped by for the weekly dinner family night tradition. Will really was so domesticated now, but in part maybe he always had been.

The cosy scene swam before her eyes only to be replaced by another one.

_Coming home, she found Spike in the kitchen chatting and laughing with her mom. He'd been so protective over Dawn then too. He looked happy, till his eyes rested on her. His expression, which had seemed so happy, normal and relaxed, changed to one of wariness._

Oh, how she had resented his intrusion into her life. Back then she had seen his friendliness with her mom as a means to win her affections. Now she knew better.

Spike, aka William, was/had probably been a family man type before he was turned. His affections towards her mom and Dawn confused her. She didn't want to see him as anything other than an evil vile thing.

Angel without a soul had been that. So what had been so different about Spike?

Did it have something to do with who sired you? Was it because Drusilla, crazy as she was, also longed for her own knight to rescue her? Had that somehow imparted into William as she drained his human life?

It boggled the mind, because being turned into a vampire wasn't as black and white as she had initially been led to believe. Xander was living testimony to that as well.

Why wasn't Xander killing them? How had he still managed to hold onto what made him human, when other vampires couldn't?

What – made – them – different?

"Earth calling to Buffy." Fingers clicked in front of her face.

Blinking, she looked straight into Will's face. She saw the curiosity in his eyes.

"Where did you go?"

She swallowed. "Oh, you really don't want to know."

She glanced around the table to find five sets of eyes on her. Wow, she must have really zoned out.

Colour crept into her cheeks. She reached for the roast potatoes, putting a generous amount on her plate as a means of distraction and feeling self-conscious.

"I'm starving."

"I'm not surprised, you're beginning to fade away to nothing."

Trust Will to give his two bits worth.

Buffy scowled at him. "And you can talk."

"She has a point Will," Tara interjected.

"Yeah, but I've always been skinny and Buffy used to be …"

"Fat," she finished for him.

She wasn't offended. Is was never her after all. Is that why he never looked twice at her? Though it would have been wrong to lust after a 14 year old girl, but surely as she grew older … he'd never noticed her that way? Angel had noticed her, and she hadn't been all that much older. Buffy inwardly shuddered.

"I wasn't going to say that," Will protested. "Just curvy and more feminine and maybe I should just shut up."

"Good idea."

Everyone started chatting at the table as if to quickly shuffle the moment of awkwardness between her and Will under a rug. He really couldn't help himself, this whole big brother thing … and what was with that anyway? Did he just suddenly waltz into their lives, and start telling her what to do? She could understand with Dawn, because Dawn would have only been eight, but she was 14. Hardly a girl anymore.

She could feel a headache coming on. Rubbing her temples with her fingers, she glanced up to see Will and Tara murmuring something to each other, faces only inches apart, a look of adoration in his eyes.

It felt as if a knife had been shoved through her heart, yet again.

_Face it Buffy_, she inwardly moaned, _the days when he once looked at you like that are over_.

The wish was too powerful. Anya's words came to mind – _if you were to make him fall in love with you, then that could change things.'_

That was … so never going to happen.

She was stuck in this alternative universe forever.

Spying the bottle of red wine in the centre of the table, she reached for it and poured a generous amount into her glass. Maybe if she got pissed enough, Drusilla wouldn't haunt her dreams tonight.

Raising the glass to her lips, she looked up to notice all sets of eyes on her, again.

_Yes, this is Buffy the freaky girl,_ she felt like saying, _acting all odd and strange and since when has there been anything unusual about that of late?_

"Bottoms up," she said instead.

* * *

The days dragged by. The same said days grew shorter as winter approached. Giles, other real world Giles would have been proud with the amount of time she spent in the library. Of course she had spent a lot of time in the school library back then, just not studying like a normal person. She could picture his pleased face in her mind. For a moment she allowed herself to slip back into older fond memories. Only for it to be interrupted with Will's impatient expression.

Buffy blinked. He had just appeared out of nowhere.

"Knew I would find you here," he muttered. "You do realise it's a Friday night, right?"

She glanced at the bewilderment on his face, then frowned at his hair. He'd had it cut and now his hair was just brown. She didn't like it. Not waiting for an answer, he grabbed her by the arm and started pulling her towards the door.

"Xander is waiting for us at the cemetery, we're expecting a busy night or had you forgotten?"

"I thought that was at ten?"

He sighed. "It's already that."

It was? "Guess I lost track of time," she murmured to herself.

Will just glanced sideways at her as they walked out the main door. She knew that look.

"Maybe you need to start thinking about socialising a bit more," he suggested.

And there is was. That's all she had heard these last couple of weeks. It was beginning to grow tiresome.

"There are people besides me in the library," she returned.

He shook his head. "You know what I mean."

They were met with a chilly blast of air as he pushed the main door open. Buffy shivered.

"Your coat is in my car."

"You brought it for me?" She felt oddly touched.

He was so thoughtful these days. The perfect man. _Stupid vengeance demon_, Buffy muttered to herself.

He smiled in that warm way of his. "Knew you would forget, Pet."

Damn his stupid uncanny astuteness. Damn his stupid smile. She dragged her gaze away from his.

They continued to walk down the path towards the car park.

"It's been three months, Buffy," he continued.

"Not nearly long enough," she sighed.

He really was being persistent about this whole socialising thing.

"Has my mom been talking to you again?"

"She just worries, you know."

He was strangely attached to her mom. He treated her with the upmost respect. Maybe it was just a British thing?

"I'm fine, no need to worry." Did she have to spell that out?

Of course Will didn't look like he believed her. She shook her head. Having arrived at his car, he opened the door for her as he always did.

"Who taught you to be such a gentleman?"

"My grandmother. I lived with her for a couple years after mum died, before we moved here."

Memories, she inwardly sighed. A brand new spanking set of memories for him, whilst she was still stuck with the old original brand of them. Lucky him. Spike would have had well over a 120 years' worth of memories. He lived through the biggest moments in the world's history, through wars and political turbulence.

He would have been a boy growing up in the Victorian era, so far removed from today. What was he like before he was turned? It was a question that constantly plagued her. She didn't know why this was suddenly so important to her.

Drusilla's words from her dreams came back to mind. _So alone. He'd been alone for too long._

Drusilla's words didn't match with the sordid story Spike gave her of his past. _'What can I say I've always been bad."_

She didn't question him, why would she? Spike liked to think of himself at the big bad. She remembered him telling her that, _'We like to talk big. Vampires do. 'I'm going to destroy the world'. That's just tough guy talk.'_

Buffy felt a smile twitch at the corners of her lips with the memory.

For all she'd know he was probably some proper English gentleman before he was turned. She felt a hysterical giggle rise in her throat at the thought and quickly suppressed it. What did it matter now? She had as good as staked him, just like in the dream. The pain of loss rolled over her in a bleak wave.

It was a relief to finally get out of the car. She was in the mood for killing. William shot her a perplexed look. "You've been quiet."

"Just thinking," she replied. "So let's kick some demon butt."

They walked in silence for a bit, frosty ice crunching beneath their boots.

"God I hate winter," she muttered.

Will just grunted in reply and she looked his way, her eyes resting on his hair. She frowned.

"I prefer it blonde."

He gave her a sideways glance, cocking one eyebrow. "And I prefer yours long."

Damn, but he was still quick with the retorts. It pissed her off. They strolled along at a quick pace, her breath coming out in smoky puffs from the coldness of the night air.

"Is it because you still want me to be him," he finally pointed out.

She could feel her annoyance increasing. "You are so not him," she got out through gritted teeth.

"I don't want to be him," he snapped back, eyes glittering.

They stopped and stared at each other challenging, continuing the argument without words.

Will flung his hands up in frustration. "I thought it would make it easier for you!"

"There is nothing that could make this easier for me. Nothing that is except undoing what I've done."

"Well it ain't gonna happen."

He had that stubborn tilt to his jaw, the one that made her feel like punching him.

"I like my life," he continued.

"You liked it before too, so much so that you managed to survive 120 years as a vampire. No mean feat that one."

He shook his head. "Yeah, can't wait to return to that supposedly mouldy crypt I lived in," he snorted. "Drinking pig's blood and being hated by everyone."

She frowned at his words. He spat that out almost like he remembered it.

"You did me a favour, Buffy."

He had a point. He did now live in a plush apartment, had the love of a beautiful woman and lots of friends. He was popular and everyone liked him so much. He had it all. She glanced up to find him watching her, a confused expression on his face.

"Why are you suddenly bringing all of this up? I thought you were okay now?"

"I thought maybe I was too, but then your ex-girlfriend started haunting my dreams."

His eyebrows shot up. "My what?"

"Drusilla," Buffy returned, "She was the one who sired you, and you were so devoted to her."

He blinked. "Drusilla," he murmured.

"She no longer apparently exists now, only in my memories," Buffy continued. "Don't you see? I've changed everyone's fate and it's wrong."

"Drusilla," he murmured again.

Buffy noticed the distant look in his eyes.

"You remember her?" she asked, a sudden hope filling her.

He shook his head. "No … just that it sounds familiar."

"Well, you were with her for over a century."

If he retained any memories at all of that time, then it would be with her and …

"It hurts," he murmured.

She quickly glanced at him.

"When I say her name there is this ache here." He rubbed at his sternum. Buffy swallowed the lump in her throat.

"You mean your heart?" she whispered.

"It's everywhere."

He suddenly gripped both her shoulders, startling her. "What did you do?!"

Her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of his tortured gaze.

"W-what do you mean?"

His face darkened.

"You did this to me Buffy. Was I so vile before that you had to change me?"

Her heart faltered. "No," she gasped. "No … Will … I'm so sorry."

If he weren't gripping her so tightly she would have collapsed in a heap.

"Am I interrupting anything here?"

Buffy's panicked eyes flew to Xander's face. Will's hands dropped to his sides. He blinked as if awakening from a dream. Then his eyes swept from her to Xander, they were filled with confusion.

"What just happened?"

Buffy exchanged a worried glance with Xander. She was still reeling by Will's sudden pained outburst.

But now he was fine, as if nothing had happened. He didn't even appear to remember his brief distressed outburst.

What was with that?

Buffy swallowed. "Um, nothing. You kinda of zoned out for a minute."

He blinked again. "I did?"

She nodded. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I hate to break this short," Xander interrupted. "But demons to kill, not as if they are going to wait."

Buffy tore her gaze away from Will's, her heart still racing, unable to erase the deep image of the searing pain she had seen in his eyes a moment ago. Maybe it would be better if she didn't mention Drusilla again.

"Nothing like killing some demons on a Friday night," she murmured.

Right now she needed a distraction. She was so confused, and if she had to be completely honest, afraid. She didn't want to hurt him and that brief relapse in memory seemed to cause him a whole world of grief.

* * *

Will couldn't explain his sudden agitation and restlessness. After killing off the demons in what was a successful night, he returned to the apartment with Xander.

They had dropped Buffy home. She was acting all kind of skittish. She could barely look him in the eyes.

What had he done now? But he couldn't remember. She was talking about some woman haunting her dreams. Then everything went blank.

Unable to let it go, he had followed her to her front door.

"I know we got into a bit of a disagreement …" he began.

"You deserve this life," she had quickly blurted out. "You deserve to be happy."

What the hell? A sad, brief smile crossed her face. "Goodnight William."

He'd watched the door close in his face feeling confused by the sudden emotions coursing through him, as if he'd stood on this doorstep before with her closing it in his face, just like now. He couldn't begin to comprehend the sudden feeling of rejected pain.

"This is insane," he muttered, shaking his head to clear it.

Now, he was pacing the living room of his penthouse, stopping to pour himself a stiff bourbon as strange, disturbing images hovered around the edges of his mind, unrecognizable glimpses of faces, sounds not quite heard. It left an unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Will," came Tara's soft voice.

He glanced up to see her standing in the doorway, her hair mussed, and a sleepy half look on her pretty face. For a moment his heart lurched painfully in his chest. _'You deserve this life. You deserve to be happy.' _ So why did he suddenly feel as if he didn't?

Tying the belt to her dressing gown, she moved soundlessly towards him. He saw the worry in her eyes.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

His mouth felt dry. "Do you love me?"

"Of course I love you," she gasped. "How can you think otherwise?"

His shoulders slumped in relief. Raising the glass to his lips he took a long swig.

"I don't know if I deserve it … you."

Confusion crossed her face. "I-I don't understand, Will?"

Raising a hand, he lightly caressed her cheek.

"I was an evil vampire who killed people for over 120 years …"

"In an altered reality that now never happened, and one which you can't remember …" her voice broke off there as her hand gripped his forearm. "Y-You don't remember it do you?"

He shook his head.

Relief flickered in her eyes.

"Just that … something happened tonight and I felt this rage and this pain and it was intense."

Recalling it now sent a shiver down his spine.

Tara removed the glass from his hand.

"Come to bed, sleep it off," she smiled up at him. "I can help you to forget."

He would be so lost without her. Clasping her hand in his, he drew it to his mouth and brushed a kiss to her wrist.

"I think that could work."

Lowering his lips to hers, his hands ploughed through her soft hair. Somehow they managed to find the bedroom. The sweet moment of intimacy banished the dark lonely shadows back to where ever they had come from. He would be fine, just as long as he always had Tara.

After their love making was over, she snuggled into him. His fingers toyed with her hair, such a feeling of contentment stole over him.

This … this was what he had always wanted.

"Let's get married."

"Oh, so you are in a teasing …" Tara sat bolt upright in the bed, her eyes widening. "You're serious?"

He couldn't help the grin crossing his face at the look of astonishment on hers.

"Of course I am, Luv."

She brought a hand up to her mouth, tears brimmed in her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Just put me out of my misery and give me an answer," he groaned.

"Yes! Yes! Will."

He caught her in his arms. They both fell back onto the bed laughing, arms and legs entangled.

* * *

_You forget, you forget what you don't want to remember. It hurt too much. The fear of loss that left a gaping hole in what used to be your heart. _

_It hurts … everything hurts, until it just gets sucked into a black abyss. Then it becomes nothing._

'_Will you still love me when I'm a monster?'_

_Of course – who would – who could ..._

His mouth sought hers. If he kissed deep enough, loved long enough then he could be whole again. He didn't have to be a monster anymore.

He could be … a man.

It would be okay.

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* * *

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**A/N: **Thanks for reading! Would love to get some feedback, anything would do, just let me know what you liked, what you would like to see happen or something as simple as you like it. Or maybe you would currently like to kill me for having Will ask Tara to marry him. :)

Okay, well I know it seems kind of bleak at the moment but I do know how this story will end and I do think everyone will like where I take it. At least I hope so. I know I'm excited to write it. I should be able to post the next chapter in a couple days.

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	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: ** Thank you so much for all the reviews! They really make my day! They are like nuggets of gold! Please keep them coming :)

This chapter took forever to write, hence the delay. I had some family issues last week and it left little time to write, so sorry about that. As a result of that, I think this chapter is a bit disjointed in parts, but if I didn't upload now it'd be another week! My writing muse is still on the blink a bit.

A special thanks to jakki416 who gave me an idea which I thought was really good and I decided to run with it; thank you!

That said, enjoy!

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* * *

**Chapter 5.**

* * *

**.**

For once, Buffy was perfectly content and comfortable snuggled under her blankets. The birds were chirping outside her window and the world felt right.

She sighed to herself, no nasty Drusilla nightmares of late. In fact it had been a whole week. Just maybe she could do this, survive in this new alternative reality. She could pretend everything was just great. All she had to do was avoid Will like the bubonic plague and his newly to be fiancée.

Arghhhh … who was she kidding!

Oh, how the Gods must be cracking up with ironic laughter right about now. The only blessed relief to come out of all of this is since William had made the announcement about his and Tara's engagement the nightmares of Drusilla had stopped.

If only the heart ache would stop too.

She remembered that night, sitting there in stunned silence for a moment before plastering a fake _'congratulations'_ smile on her face. She was so sure her face was going to crack before the night ended.

Even after Will and Tara had left, Buffy was sure that horrible fake smile was stuck to her face.

'_Are you alright, Buffy,' her mom had asked._

_She managed a nod and an 'hmm mmm hmmm.'_

Then there was the hysterical laughter; once alone in her bedroom. The joke was on her. She preferred the laughter to the stupid tears that followed. The tub of ice-cream in the freezer gave her some small comfort.

If only she could stay snuggled under the blankets, not have to face the world, not have to …

"Buffy," her mom spoke from the doorway, a question in her voice.

Buffy forced an, _'I'm peachy'_ expression to her face before sitting up in bed. "Yes."

Her mom stepped into the room. Buffy could tell by her expression it was going to be another one of those - _'I'm here if you need to talk' _kind of speeches. Her fake smile wasn't fooling anyone.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Buffy brushed the hair out of her eyes.

"I just need some time I guess," she mumbled.

_Time … yes, she needed time, try like a hundred years._

"And some space."

_Loads of space, like infinity and back and whatever that meant. _

"I'll be fine," she waved with a dismissive wave of her hand.

_And don't even think about shooting a pitying glance my way, and how many demons heads could she rip off tonight._

The last week had been like that, like _'kill – demons - kill'_ and it had felt good. Such was her anger … j_ust get out of my way vampires_, or anything she could slaughter with ferocious speed.

Tonight was no exception to that.

Both Xander and Will shot strange looks her way.

"Are you okay, Buffy?" Xander asked, "You've been particularly violent lately."

She avoided Will's curious gaze, but she already knew what he was thinking. It was only a matter of time before he confronted her about it.

Xander was preoccupied by a goat-like demon. "This sucker is mine," he'd yelled out.

"Sure, knock yourself out," Will replied and turned to look at her.

"Is this about me and Tara?" he asked.

"Don't flatter yourself."

That should have been the cue for William to back off, but just like Spike used to be, somethings hadn't changed, and he blithely continued.

"Look, Buffy, maybe it would help to talk about it …"

"What's left to say, Will? I miss Spike. I want him back, but you are not him. You just look like him, and you are kinda like him enough for me to be well aware of what I've lost."

There give him that, let's see what he had to say for himself now.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, averting his eyes. "I'm sorry."

So was she.

"But the brown hair does help."

"I never dye my hair, it was just a stupid bet I made with Oz."

Of course it was. She hadn't dared mention Drusilla again, and he'd had no further freaky out bursts, that had made her think part of the old Spike must still be within him somewhere?

Just like with Dawn, their memories would have been tampered with, right? Because how else could she explain Will's sudden outburst of '_What did you do to me?_' the other week.

What would happen if she mentioned Drusilla? Would he flip out again?

"I meant what I said the other day," she murmured. "You deserve to be happy …"

He held up a hand to cut her off. "Don't."

A pained shadow crossed his face, puzzling her. "I don't think it's about what anyone deserves," he muttered, "It's how a person makes you feel, and she makes me feel alive. She makes me feel like a man."

Those words tore a piece from her heart. Long ago memories washed over her, _'I know I'm a Monster, but you treat me like I'm a man.'_

Oh, god. Her mouth went dry. She fought the tears that collected in her eyes.

"Does that make sense?" he continued with a touch of confusion in his voice.

Numbly, she nodded.

"Because it doesn't make sense to me."

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. This … she couldn't handle this right now. Slowly, she backed away from him.

"I've … got to … go."

Turning abruptly, she took off down the path.

"Buffy," he called after her.

She couldn't bring herself to look back. Was there any point anymore?

* * *

Buffy knew it was only a matter of time before Will and Xander would catch up with her. They had all left from her house to begin with. At least she would have some time to compose the painful emotions coursing through her. Surely it had to get better soon, right? It had been 98 days. She had once been dead a lot longer than that, though time ceased to exist then.

The streets lights blurred before her eyes as she quickly walked, hands shoved in pockets. Her beanie and scarf offered little comfort from the cold night air.

_His hands were gentle as they held hers. She could feel them tremble. Disbelief, mingled with love lit up his eyes as they searched hers. Was she real? Did he dare hope? His touch was so tender, too tender for a monster. Since when did demons feel? Since when did they love? Why was Spike gazing at her with such naked, raw emotions reflected in his bright eyes? _

'_How long was I gone?'_

_He struggled to find his voice. 'Hundred and forty-seven days yesterday … um, one-forty-eight today. 'Cept today doesn't count, does it?'_

_He had counted the days … why? You only ever counted the days when you … loved someone. _

_No. Definitely not! Monsters don't – fall – in – love!_

Once Buffy reached home, she stopped for a moment at the front door to compose herself. _Take deep breaths_, she silently instructed. _You can do this, get through this_.

Buffy quietly pushed the front door open, hoping to make a hasty retreat to her bedroom. She peeked into the lounge room. Tara and Willow were sitting on the sofa, only not as she had left them. Willow was sobbing uncontrollably, Tara was comforting her.

Buffy froze on the spot. Her first thoughts flew straight to her mother. Please … no, not her Mom, that was the only good thing about this horrible alternative world. She stumbled into the lounge room. "What's wrong?" her voice sounded not much more than a croak.

Tara glanced her way. "Willow broke up with Oz."

Buffy just stood there for a moment, shocked and relieved at the same time. Her mom was fine and Willow had … what?!

"I don't know what came over me," Willow stuttered. "J-Just suddenly I had this feeling that Oz would leave me … and I don't think … I don't think I love him."

Willow buried her face in her hands. "Not as much as I should and it's – all muddled up."

Buffy stood there dazed. Willow felt that way because … because that was what had happened. Oz, in that other reality, had left her, but how … why? First Spike, now Willow, was there something wrong with the spell? Had the vengeance demon slipped up a little? A faint glimmer of hope took hold, which was quickly dashed on the rocks when Will and Xander returned. Will went straight to Tara, there was no doubt in where his loyalties lay. Willow may have broken up with Oz, but Will and Tara were still tightly bound together. And something like this could happen anyway, spell or not, there were never any guarantees in life.

* * *

Eventually Tara took Willow back to her dormitory. Xander went in search of Oz. Quite suddenly Buffy found herself alone with Will. So much for avoiding him like the bubonic plague. Everywhere she went he was there, haunting her, tormenting her with what she had lost. They both shot unsure glances each other way.

"I don't know about you, but I could do with a stiff drink right about now," she muttered.

Moving towards the cupboard where she knew Giles kept his bottles of alcohol, she reached for the brandy, well aware of William watching her.

"You want one?" she asked over her shoulder.

"Sure why not, been a hell of a night. Never expected Red to dump Oz."

Buffy poured a generous amount of brandy into two glasses. She handed him one.

He gingerly took it from her. They stood awkwardly. She leaned against the wall cabinet. Will gazed down at the glass in his hand. There were a whole lot of unsaid questions, questions that really couldn't be answered. Why go there?

"Don't let father see you stealing his brandy." Will spoke, the last thing she expected him to say.

It still sounded so weird hearing him call Giles Father. Tonight, for some strange reason, it was even more difficult to look at him than usual. Maybe because of what he had said earlier, how Tara made him feel like a man. Those words … they still hurt, a lot.

Is that what her own failure had been? Was that why she could never keep a relationship? She was the Slayer, and Slayer's were not meant to have relationships. Relationships would only hold them down, stop them from fulfilling their purpose in this world. She couldn't afford to let anyone into her heart.

It was lonely.

And was that all she would ever be? A Slayer, nothing more than a functional member of society that killed the undead so everyone could sleep safely in their beds at night?

She involuntarily shivered. "I don't think the white picket fence was ever meant for me."

She hadn't meant to say that out loud and took another swig of her brandy. It felt good, soothing in the way it warmed her chest. Damn her loose tongue. She chanced a quick glance at Will. He had that familiar thoughtful expression on his face, as if he was trying to figure her out.

"Do you think about having kids?" she asked him.

He hesitated for a moment. She could see the uncertainty in his eyes; the questions. Why was she asking this? Where would this lead? Should they be discussing this?

"I guess so … one day."

She raised the glass to her lips. "I think you would make a great father." She drained what was left in the glass. The image of him faded before her eyes, only to be replaced by his other, Spike with his peroxide hair.

'_I'm counting on you, Spike. To help protect her.'_

_His face, if she could just ignore that sincere face of his then she could pretend that Spike, as always, must have some ulterior motive of some kind for wanting to help her. He said it was love … really? She had no qualms in using him for her own purposes either. Taking full advantage of his unwavering loyalty towards her. She couldn't understand why that was; how a demon could understand the concept of loyalty._

'_Til the end of the world – even if that happens to be tonight. Nobody touches the Little Bit while Spike's around. I promise.'_

_Stupid face. Stupid – beautiful - earnest face._

Present day William shook his head, confusion reflected in his eyes. "Maybe …"

His voice broke off there as she poured herself another brandy. She could almost hear the cogs churning in his brain, eyes now full of curiosity.

"And what makes you say that?" he continued.

Taking a deep breath, she took a sip of the brandy, ignoring the ache in her heart. If only he knew, remembered what he was, who he was.

"You always were so protective over Dawn," she swallowed, "still are."

"So are you," he shot back. "And much more now, which is different, because you weren't like that before. Well you were, but now it's," he ran a hand up the back of his neck, "like your ten years older or something."

She felt it too, the burden of responsibility that once sat upon her shoulders had changed her, forced her to grow up quicker than she ordinarily would have.

"You would make a great mum."

His words sounded so sincere. So much like the old Spike … it hurt. She took another swig of brandy, enjoying the numbing sensation it offered.

"Perhaps if I was normal."

His frown deepened. He looked ready to speak but she quickly cut him off.

"As for having kids … how and when exactly would I fit that into my schedule, and should I even subject a kid with a mother who has a death sentence hanging around her neck?"

"You don't know," he began, "It's not exactly a death sentence, more like …"

"Tell that to Faith."

He froze, she didn't miss the dark pained shadows in his eyes.

"If she were here … still."

Had she said too much now? Or what really needed to be said? Maybe it was the brandy loosening her tongue.

"Not that I knew Faith in this world. In mine she was dark, unruly, a law unto herself, and god knows what she's up to or even into. All I knew is that she was dangerous, but I kinda get it now … the lonliness that comes with having power and making decisions when you're still just a girl. I think if things had been different we would have been best of friends," she broke off there when the irony struck. She let out a bitter laugh. "Guess we were in this world. Pity I don't remember it."

Her vision blurred with tears. She half expected William to reply with some caustic remark, but he was being unusually quiet. She couldn't bring herself to look at him, her eyes fixed on the glass in her hand. She took another long swig.

"I could get use to this."

Will removed the glass from her hand. "I think you've had enough." His fingers brushed against hers. His warmth radiated up her arm. It was so tempting just to lean on him. She could smell his skin. Warm and salty with a just a hint of soap to it. So different from before. The sight of the light brown curls on his neck seeming so alien and yet, growing more familiar by the day.

"I'm the Slayer, and you can't tell me what to do."

Her voice shook, totally giving away her false bravado. A tender half amused smile crossed his face.

"And you're still a girl."

She folded her arms, gave him a pointed look.

He rolled his eyes. "Okay, a big girl now. Just because you're the Slayer, Buffy, it doesn't mean you can't have a life like everyone else."

His hands came to rest on her shoulders, his gaze searching hers was warm and caring, making her toes curl.

She should go now.

Feet move … please … now.

"What happened to Faith … doesn't mean it will happen to you."

He took a deep breath, shook his head. "It was just bad luck, Buffy."

Did it still pain him to talk about it – about her? He absently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, totally unaware the affect it was having on her, and why was he doing this? Was this just another sisterly affection thing?

"Joyce would kill me if anything happened to you."

His thumb brushed against her cheek, then a frown dented his forehead as if he'd just realised what he was doing. He took a step back, confusion mirrored in his eyes.

Buffy managed to find her voice. "Yeah, um and Giles too."

He blinked, nodded, as if trying to clear his head.

"Best not to think about it. Truth is, anyone of us could die at any time." His voice taking on a more matter of fact tone. But his eyes … she couldn't quite read them.

It was turning out to be another one of those unsettling nights.

"I probably should get going."

She nodded. Yes, probably for the best, before she said anything further she'd regret or something stupid like throwing herself in his arms.

"Thanks for the pep talk."

He nodded, averting his eyes. "Yeah, sure … hope it helped."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned to leave. "I can let myself out."

Once he was gone, Buffy sank into the sofa with a groan. She ran her hands through her hair, tugging on the short blunt ends. Could it get anymore tortuous? Stupid question, she silently chided, don't answer that.

* * *

The hot steamy water spraying from the shower did little to soothe him. Will hated feeling this way. Truth be told, he felt at odds within himself and had done for the last week. Ever since that night he'd zoned out and couldn't remember a thing. He thought by asking Tara to marry him it would be enough of a distraction, help banish the unsettling images that existed on the periphery of his mind. He didn't know what those images exactly were. They taunted his dreams at nights, random images of frenzied violent killings, screams piercing his ear drums. Often causing him to wake up in the middle of the night in a pool of sweat. Shivering uncontrollably, he'd try to steady the wild beating of his heart. He'd put his arms around Tara, needing to feel simple human warmth of a body. Why did he feel so cold?

Turning the taps off, he reached for a towel.

It was Buffy's fault. Buffy and all her talk about what life had been like before she supposedly had a little conversation with a vengeance demon that changed everyone's so called fate.

He towel dried his hair, muttering to himself.

He didn't want to believe it. It was a lie. He wasn't a vampire, and especially one that had lived for 120 years; who was, at one point in history, the scourge of Europe.

It wasn't him. And it wasn't hard to act as if that life time, that person, had never existed. But now … now he was beginning to wonder if that person had ever really left?

He wrapped the towel around his waist.

Had his whole life been a lie?

Was his previous life beginning to soak through the cracks into this present one?

Either way, he didn't want it.

Grabbing a hair comb, he attempted to tame the curls that had a mind of their own.

Then there were his feelings towards Buffy, like a wildly swinging pendulum. At times he resented her, yet he cared deeply for her – like a brother – he would tell himself and yet, – sometimes not.

Like tonight. For a moment, when he'd taken the glass of brandy from her hand, her words had disturbed him. Seeing the sadness in her eyes, he had found himself wanting to hold her, comfort her, and reassure her it would all be okay.

Not that he knew if it would be. She was right. Faith had died at 20. Buffy was now 21, given the history books, the oldest Slayer ever known on record had never lived past 25.

Quite suddenly the thought of anything happening to her was incomprehensible. He'd mumbled out the words, '_Joyce would kill me if anything happened to you'_, but in truth - he couldn't imagine life without her in it.

Climbing into bed, he tried to keep his troubled thoughts from Tara, but who was he kidding. She always had the uncanny knack of seeing through people. He never could hide anything from her.

She only had to roll over on her side, say his name, and he blurted it all out, minus his mixed feelings towards Buffy.

She tried to reassure him that it would be okay. And so what if he was once an evil vampire, the past didn't matter, only the future.

Of course, she was right. She always was and had been the voice of reason.

* * *

Buffy peered down at her 'to do list'.

Complete English assignment – tick.

Get haircut – tick.

Shave legs – tick.

So far so good.

Have coffee with Tara … oh, yeah, forgot about that. Why did Tara want to have coffee with her? Had Will been bitching in her ear? _Buffy needs to socialise more, you should get friendly with her_.

She returned her attention to the list.

Take Dawn shopping. Buffy glanced up at the clock. Double crap. It was already three in the afternoon. Had she really spent the last four hours in the library on a Saturday? God, how sad was her existence now.

Buffy spied Willow walking in her direction, with a worried and somewhat troubled expression.

"Wow, Buffy. You've become more of a nerd than I ever was," she remarked.

Buffy shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Really! Stupid alternative world.

"I guess," she began and shot Willow a half apologetic look. "It's kind of pathetic, huh?"

Willow shook her head. "No, not really, just different – for you that is."

Willow promptly sat in the seat opposite her. "Not that it's a bad thing."

"Oh," Buffy began, not knowing what else to say. Suddenly she remembered that Willow had broken up with Oz. Is that why Willow was here?

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Indecision skittered across her face. She took a deep breath. "Yes and no."

Buffy silently waited to hear more. Willow raised imploring eyes to hers. "I think I did the right thing?"

Buffy nodded in reassurance.

"I love Oz, just that there was no physical attraction anymore."

She really didn't know what to say, because – what did she say exactly say in a moment like this? _Well, Willow, its perfect understandable and you're probably gay._

She silently snorted to herself. As if that would go down well. Her head began to ache. Maybe Willow was just discovering her gayness a couple of years later in this alternative world. Maybe the vengeance demon could only initially alter the start, but everyone's true nature would eventually unfold?

Is so then why was it that Tara didn't even appear to be remotely gay now?

"Oz has left town." Willow spoke, breaking the silence.

Buffy blinked, dazed for a minute.

"He said he wants to find a cure."

"For being a werewolf?"

Willow nodded. "I hope he does, I could do with a cure."

Buffy felt bad and guilty all over again.

"I'm sorry that happened to you. It's all my fault."

"No … Buffy, it's okay. I have a nice comfy padded cell in the apartment that I only have to spend two nights a month in. And Tara stays with me, keeps me company."

Why Tara? Why not Xander? But then Tara did have a soothing presence about her. Or maybe it was a subconscious thing?

"It's took some adjustment – you know – being what I am, even though I never asked for it. But I guess no one ever does. And it's not as if you asked to be the Slayer either."

Willow had a good point, and Buffy felt a tad better.

This was nice, chatting with Willow like old times. She had missed that. On an impulse, Buffy flung her arms around her.

"What was that for?" Willow asked, bemused.

"For just being you."

Willow flushed, looking pleased. "Oh … oh, and before I forget we are all meeting at the Bronze tonight and you are not getting out of it."

She pointed a finger in Buffy's face. "I've been given strict orders to drag you out of the library."

Buffy sighed and rolled her eyes. The thought though, it didn't sound so unappealing anymore. Maybe she really did need to start socialising once again.

"Okay."

Willow clapped her hands together. "Yay."

* * *

Buffy felt nervous as she entered the Bronze with Dawn by her side. She had allowed Dawn to dress her up a bit. And now she felt sort of silly.

She hadn't worn much in the way of make-up. If felt like she was wearing a mask, like she had something to hide and as for her hair; she should have left that alone. Not let Dawn gel it and style it, and now she felt like a sorely out of place punk rocker. The downside to having short hair is that there were not a lot of options on what you could do with it.

Maybe she should let it grow longer again? Pity she didn't think about that earlier, before visiting the hair dressers this morning.

"I'm not sure about this top," she muttered, as Dawn searched for the others. "It's so tight."

"It looks great. You look like a girl for a change," Dawn returned.

Buffy scowled. "Thanks, I think."

"Oh, there's Tara and Will," Dawn exclaimed and dragged her over to their table.

Buffy felt suddenly anxious. It really had been too long. She was so rusty at this now. This was a bad idea.

Tara smiled warmly as they approached.

Will appeared shocked and surprised to see her there.

"So you managed to drag big sister from her hidey hole, Niblett" he quipped. "Good for you."

Dawn smiled widely. "Yep."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "It's not as if I had much else to do. Besides they serve alcohol here."

And that was good thing.

"So, it's not just about socialising and having fun with friends," Will remarked.

All eyes were on her, damn. "That too." She made an attempt to smile.

His eyes rested on her hair, and she waited for some remark, knowing he didn't like it short. But he never said anything.

"It's good to see you here, Pet. Now what do you all like to drink?"

Once Will and Dawn went to order the drinks, Tara leaned in towards Buffy, a troubled frown darkened her brow.

"I'm worried about him."

Is this why Tara had wanted to meet for coffee?

"I think Will is starting to remember being a vampire. He has nightmares. He wakes up disorientated and distressed."

Buffy felt a tightness in her stomach. It had to be bad if Tara was mentioning it. The last thing she wanted was for Will to be suffering. That thought alone bothered her. It wasn't right. She had done this to him!

"I think it might help if you can tell me everything you know about Will in that other life."

A knot formed in her throat, Buffy swallowed and nodded. "You might not like what you hear?"

Tara shrugged a shoulder. "I don't care what he once was. It doesn't matter, because I know the man Will is now. I only want to know so that I can help him."

Buffy gazed into her sweet, sincere face. How did she ever hope to compare to someone like Tara for Will's affection?

Simple answer – she didn't.

Taking a deep, pained breath, her eyes met with Tara's. They now had a shared understanding; look after Will.

"How about we meet up for coffee at the Espresso Pump at around ten in the morning?"

* * *

No sooner had Xander and Anya rocked up, when Buffy dragged Anya to a far corner. One way or another she was going to get answers!

"What are you doing?" Anya began in protest. "Buffy? You're creasing the sleeve of my top."

"Sorry, but we gotta talk."

Once alone, Buffy turned to face her. "Can you call her?"

Anya frowned. "Who?"

"The vengeance demon that granted me this little wish."

"Halfrek," Anya sighed.

"She's your friend, or was. I need to know what is happening with Will."

"I can try, but it doesn't mean she'll come."

Gazing upwards, Anya spoke in a loud voice. "Hallie, get your ass down here!"

Quite suddenly, there she was; Halfrek. The pretty brunette smiled, acting all innocent. And she really did look so sweet. She had the kind of face that just invited a person to tell her all of their woes.

"Halfrek," Anya began, "You remember Buffy."

Halfrek glanced over her. Her face fell. "Oh, no, no, no. There is no undoing this. It's some of my finest work."

Buffy clenched her jaw. "So I have noticed."

"I must admit, it is good," Anya agreed.

They both glanced across the Bronze to where William sat at a table, chatting with Tara, Willow and Xander. He was wearing a dark blue shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes. He'd somehow managed to slick the errant curls into some semblance of order. Buffy hated to admit it, but he really did look …

"Isn't he perfect," Halfrek sighed.

"You did make the perfect man," Anya agreed.

Buffy frowned at the dreamy expressions on their faces.

"You should have seen him back in 1880," Halfrek continued. "He was a total bore, a foppish English gentleman that doted on his mother."

Buffy's head wiped around so fast she heard it crack.

"You knew him!?"

Halfrek nodded. "He wrote poetry. It was dreadful, and he had a thing for me."

Buffy clenched and unclenched her fists.

"You knew him as a human?"

Okay, so she was repeating herself - just that this vengeance demon who had caused all of his suffering to begin with was still causing it.

"It was a long time ago. I had quite the social life."

"I bet you did," Buffy muttered under her breath.

She was silently fuming. How many lives had this vengeance demon screwed up in her time?

"How do you know Will?"

"We sometimes moved in the same social circles, not that he ever really fitted in."

That much hadn't changed, well Spike had problems fitting in then, but not Will. Everyone loved him now.

"He was painfully shy and sensitive for a man," Halfrek continued. "It really was off putting. He wasn't capable of hurting a fly."

A small amused laugh escaped her throat. Buffy wasn't impressed.

"Then he became a vampire and powerful, who'd ever thought William had that sort of strength in him."

Drusilla's words came back to haunt her. _'Didn't see his light. Didn't see his beauty. Didn't see his strength.' _Obviously Drusilla had.

"Becoming a vampire was the best thing that ever happened to him. He was so hot."

Buffy couldn't deny that.

Halfrek nudged her. "Don't tell me you don't like a bit of monster in your man?"

She opened her mouth about to speak, and promptly shut it. There was no way she was going there, she didn't trust Halfrek.

Halfrek sighed. "He did have such a tender heart. I didn't mean to break it, but seriously … he really was beneath me."

Buffy froze at those words. Where had she heard them before?

"I'm a powerful vengeance demon, not that William knew that then."

Buffy began contemplating killing this so called vengeance demon maybe that would break the spell?

It was tempting.

So very very tempting.

Anya must have read her mind and placed a restraining hand on her arm. Vengeance demons, after all, were not easy to kill.

Halfrek glanced at them, frowning. "Why did you summon me?"

"William appears to be remembering certain things …" Anya began.

"Yes, well he was particularly tricky, having lived so long and his feelings for you," she shot a look at Buffy, "ran very deep."

Buffy clenched her jaw till it ached. "These memories are causing him pain," she managed to get out.

"Of course they are!" Halfrek exclaimed. "What did you expect, Honey? He is now human with a soul and a consciousness that will give him all manner of grief over all the carnage and murderous sprees he's committed in a century as a vampire."

It wasn't what Buffy wanted to hear. She swallowed, her gaze drifting to him. He was leaning in towards Tara, smiling at something she was saying. Her heart ached at just the sight of him, alive, belonging … fitting in.

"I don't want to see him suffer," she murmured.

Halfrek's eyes swept over her face in wonder. "You didn't seem to care that night in the tavern. All you wanted was to be free of him. He was nothing more than a thorn in your side."

She couldn't deny it, but how wrong she had been … how terribly … horribly wrong. If she could only take it back – if only, but she couldn't. She knew that now.

Halfrek was gazing at her, still with a incredulous look upon her face, as if she couldn't quite figure her out?

"Do you love him?"

Buffy bit down on her lip. "Would it change anything if I did?"

There was silence. Halfrek shook her head.

"I thought not."

This conversation was now mute. It had ran its course. There was no point in wasting any more of her time. She might as well socialise.

"I'm going to go and mingle with my friends," she murmured. "Thanks for the … non advice."

* * *

Anya and Halfrek watched Buffy leave. Once out of eye sight range, Halfrek turned to Anya.

"Oh, Anya. Pulling at the threads again?"

A flash of guilt crossed her face. "Maybe."

"Pull just one and it doesn't alter much, all it causes is a tiny weak spot."

Anya took a long sip on her straw before responding. "I just feel sorry for her. She's so sad all of the time. She's a train wreck waiting to happen!"

Halfrek nodded her head.

"You do know that spot loosens with time and if you pull another thread … well eventually the threads become easier to pull and before you know it, the whole fabric loosens and begins to fall apart, piece by piece."

Anya nodded, looking pleased with herself. "No one even knows I'm doing it."

"You know what the outcome of this will be?"

"But no one will be hurt."

"Not physically, but I have fundamentally changed people's physiology," Halfrek pointed out.

"And what is wrong with that?" Anya interrupted. "It's a good thing isn't it? Not to mention how amazing my sex life is now."

Halfrek raised her eyebrows. "It depends on who you ask. Depends on who remembers their past life."

They both glanced in William's direction.

"Is it right to manipulate?" Anya couldn't help asking, because sometimes it really just didn't seem right at all.

"It's what she wished."

"But she didn't mean to …"

Halfrek let out a small ironic laugh. "Oh, Anya. You have forgotten haven't you? How many flaws make up a human being?"

Anya didn't know how to answer that, she was confused. Human's tended to do that to her.

"They think they know what they want …," Halfrek continued, "but they don't really know what is best for them? It's all about needs and wants. It's all about selfish desires."

"Are you saying that what I feel for Xander is nothing more than a selfish desire?"

Halfrek frowned. "Of course!"

"But it's real … I know it's real." Anya stammered.

Halfrek patted her shoulder. "You keep pulling at those threads, Anya. You'll soon see that I'm right."

With a whoosh of her hand, Halfrek vanished from sight. Anya sat in the far corner of the Bronze feeling disgruntled. Becoming human again after a thousand years was hard. Halfrek's words bothered her. Halfrek had obviously forgotten what it was to be human. Alright for her to be so glib with words.

Anya gazed at the people interacting, talking, laughing and living.

Nobody really knew who they were. After all it was much easier lying to yourself.

Maybe Halfrek was right. But what Anya had now started, couldn't be undone, too many threads had already been pulled.

She chewed on her bottom lip.

Oh well. It should all turn okay … shouldn't it?

.

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* * *

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**A/N: Thanks for reading! I love to know what people think, and I'm always open to ideas and suggestions. **

**Cheers!**

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	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I know it's been a while. But I really do plan to finish this story. Blame it on a bad case of writer's block, which is slowly beginning to shift. Or rather I'm making a valiant effort at trying to shift it :) **

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* * *

**Chapter Six.**

* * *

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Buffy, had been lying in an animated state of suspended numbness on the outdoor swing chair. She gazed up at the clouds. Winter had its merits. The sky was so clean. Christmas made for a handy distraction. She remembered her last Christmas. Putting on a brave face for Dawn with it being their first Christmas without their Mom. How meagre it had been, how sad. But now everything was so full of life. She could hear her Mom humming in the kitchen as she made gingerbread men.

Dawn and Will were attempting to drag a tree through the back door. Once again, Dawn had picked the biggest tree she could possibly find to squeeze into the too smallish space that made up their living room. And as usual, Will could never deny her request.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this – again!" he grumbled, sounding every bit like Spike.

Buffy wasn't at all surprised. Dawn had him wrapped around her little finger.

Halfrek's words suddenly came back to mind. _'He was a foppish English gentleman that doted on his mother.'_

It was still hard for her to wrap her head around the thought of Spike being a proper English gentleman. The thought made her silently giggle to herself. She tried to picture him so. Halfrek must have kept that bit in when she changed everything. Tricky things, these alternative universes. Looking at the way he was with Dawn made her wonder if he ever have any brothers or sisters? It wasn't hard for her to imagine him being the kind of son that doted on his mother given the way he also doted on her mom. _'Here, let help you bring the shopping in, Joyce. I'll get the door for you, Joyce. Tara and I will do the dishes, you put your feet up. That was a great meal, Joyce.'_

And then last week. _'Joyce would kill me if anything happened to you.'_

It mattered to him, what her mom thought of him. As to why? Guess that was the mystery that made up William aka Spike. There was so much she had never known about him. She hadn't wanted to know, because taking an interest in him would only mean that perhaps she did care, did feel something for him. She didn't want to see him as a person. He was a demon. That happened to be so … too … human. Who happened to understand her better than anyone else. Buffy sighed to herself. _You screwed that one up again girl_, she silently chided. She should start introducing herself as 'Hi, I'm Buffy screw-up Summers and you are?'

Her gaze drifted to his face. He smiled a lot now and he laughed, a real genuine warm laugh that made his face so full of life that it hurt, because she had never known what lay beneath his sneers and pretences. How beautiful he truly was. She hadn't bother to understand or learn his own fair share of defensive mechanisms to protect his non-existent heart from breaking, because that would make him - real.

She could see it all so clearly now. Him – what he truly was. Drusilla had turned him into a vampire and love had defined him. It may have been a messed up kind of love, but there was no denying its loyalty. But who could blame him, Spike had only known the obsessive screwed up love of a demented woman for over a hundred years. What amazed her was his ability to be able to love despite everything he'd become. The harder she thought about it, the more she came to the conclusion that her own concept of love was just as equally messed up. Love was a fable, beginning from the time she was two years of age and growing up with fairy tales of a handsome knight coming to rescue the fallen princess. What a delusion. She may be the Slayer, she may be tough on the outside, but the girly part of her was still yearning for her knight to rescue her. She thought it may have been Angel, and even Riley, but now she knew better. It wasn't about being rescued by a knight. It was about finding someone who would love her unconditionally, that understood what she was, flaws and all. She didn't need a knight. She just needed someone who got who she was. A man who counted the days she was gone. A man who was willing to die to protect her sister. A man who asked for little in return, other than for her to accept him – love him, just a little bit. But all she had done was reject him and use him for her own selfish purposes.

Sure he was damaged, but who wasn't?

'_I've learnt my lesson now,'_ she silently murmured, not that anyone could hear.

With a sinking heart she came to the realization that even Spike in that other world probably had a better concept of love than she had.

"C'mon Slayer, get your lazy ass off that swing and help us," Will called her way. "No way are you getting out of it this year."

_This year … this year … _argh. It sucked having a different set of memories, but weird things were happening. First Willow breaking it off with Oz, and Will remembering odd random memories from before.

'_He has nightmares,' _Tara had told her yesterday morning, when they'd met at the Espresso Pump for coffee. _'And they are becoming more frequent.'_

'_Does he talk about them?'_

_Tara shook her head as she sipped her Latte. 'No, it's like he forgets them soon as he wakes up.'_

_Tara pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. 'But I hear the words he mutters when asleep,' she continued. _

_Buffy felt a sense of dread creep over her._

_Tara swallowed, large blue eyes met hers. 'He calls for her … for Drusilla.'_

_Buffy froze, her heart silently pounding in her ears. _

'_It's like he's buried alive,' Tara stammered. 'He starts thrashing in the bed, and gasping that he can't breathe. He claws at the sheets.' She drew a deep breath, a troubled expression crossing her face. 'Then he yells, 'don't take me,' over and over again until he wakes up.'_

'_Oh, God,' Buffy gasped. 'I think it's a memory of when he had to claw himself out of the grave Drusilla would have buried him in when she turned him.'_

'_What does that mean, Buffy?' Tara implored. _

'_Well the demon would have taken over him, but it's as if part of him, the human part is fighting back, trying to hold on.'_

Only that wasn't possible … was it? Giles had always said there is no human left. Except for Spike and it explained a lot, why he was different to Angel. Why he could still love even without a soul. Did that explain why Angel without one was so vile? There was no human left inside of him by the time the demon took over? A shadow fell across her, and she glanced up into Will's concerned face. Quite suddenly it explained everything, what set him apart.

"C'mon be part of things, Pet. No point in brooding."

"I'm not brooding!" she snapped back. He could still be annoying at times, that hadn't changed.

He merely raised an eyebrow.

"You've been lying in that hammock all morning long, staring up at the clouds."

"I'm thinking."

"About what?"

"Stuff." _You_, she silently added.

He sighed and shook his head. Before she had a chance to say anything more, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up from the swing seat. His bright eyes were assessing her, making her squirm. Why was he looking at her like that? Quite suddenly she became painfully aware that her hand was still clasped with his.

She yanked her hand free and frowned. "What?"

His eyes rested on her hair. Self-consciously she brought a hand up to the back of her neck.

"You should stop chopping all of your pretty hair off so short."

It really was only a matter of time before he said anything about it. Much to her astonishment he proceeded to rub the short ends of her hair between his fingers. "And what's with this Buffy?"

She wanted to flick his hand away and ignore the sudden traitorous beating of her heart. His expression took on an odd wistful look.

"I get that you're sad," he continued as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You don't socialise anymore. It's like you want to be alone. It's not healthy, Buffy."

She fought the urge to lean in towards him. It would be so easy.

"Don't you think it's time to move on?"

Much to her relief he stepped back as if suddenly realising his too close proximity to her. Confusion flashed in his eyes before it quickly vanished. Maybe she had imagined it?

"It's Christmas Eve, you need to have some fun."

She took a deep steadying breath. He was right. It had been a long time since she'd last had a decent Christmas Eve. It might never come around again. She could pretend everything was peachy. Tonight, she was going to live a little.

* * *

Buffy found herself caught up in the spirit of things, singing Christmas carols with Dawn and William as they decorated the tree. Her mom and Giles joined in. It was like one big happy family. For the first time since she had woken up in the alternative life, she felt almost … happy. Yes, happy, and it had been a long while since she'd last felt it, even in her other life, the real one. Her mom had the CD player belting our Christmas carols. Her eyes scanned over the people she loved the most; Dawn, her Mom, Giles and the last person she ever expected to love – Spike. It was getting harder and harder for her to think of him as just Spike anymore.

"Deck the halls with boughs of holly," he sang in keeping with the lyrics.

"Fa la la la la, la la la la," Dawn followed.

He spun around to face her Mom. "Your turn, Joyce."

"Tis the season to be jolly."

Then his eyes rested on her.

"Fa la la la la, la la la la," Buffy sang.

Surprise lit up his face, followed by a warm smile. "You got it."

She couldn't stop the wide smile crossing her face in response to his. "Yeah, I guess I did."

Their eyes met and held.

What could have been … this … could have been … this weird alternative life, but he was in love with Tara. It would never be her. She'd had her chance. She'd blown it and yet … there was something in his expression, something she couldn't quite read or maybe it'd been a while since she last saw it. Or just maybe she wanted it so badly she was beginning to imagine it?

His gaze searched hers, seeking answers, mirrored with confusion. _What is this Buffy?_ Then he shook his head as if to clear it and tore his gaze away from hers.

"What the hell?" he muttered so silently that she barely heard the words.

The front door banged open, Buffy spun around startled. A cold blast of air hit them all and Xander stood there looking pale.

"We have a situation at the Bronze."

Judging by the expression on his face it was a bad one. Her heart sank. Happy really was a brief feeling in her life.

"Like what?" Will asked, suddenly all business like.

As if that brief moment of whatever it was had never happened. And what was with that? Did he feel something for her? A sudden hope filled her before she quickly squashed it. _Don't go there._

"A fierce looking demon, ugly, lots of teeth, no hair and strong, very strong. I couldn't fight it on my own but I think between the three of us we could bring it down," Xander hurriedly muttered, bringing her back to the urgency of the here and now.

"Do you know what it is?" Giles asked.

"It looks strangely like the Master, only without the brains or mouth. It's all just about terrorizing people."

"God lord," Giles murmured.

Buffy turned to him concerned. Giles _God lord's _never ended well. "You know what it is?"

"But it can't be," he stammered. "I didn't even think they existed anymore."

"Welcome to the Hellmouth where anything is possible," she couldn't help muttering.

"Right well, let's go kill it," Will began, walking towards the coat stand. "You can tell us all about it when we get back Dad," he continued pulling his jacket on.

Buffy went to follow, when her Mom reached for her. "Be careful."

She never knew how to handle these moments. "I'm always careful," she mumbled.

So much for a happy Christmas Eve, she murmured to herself as she followed Xander and Will out the front door.

* * *

Will pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket as Xander drove to the Bronze. "Hopefully Tara hasn't left the apartment yet."

His head was still spinning with the range of emotions that assaulted him just moments ago with Buffy. What was happening to him now? His feelings … they were all muddled. He loved Tara and yet … it was getting harder being around Buffy.

He could never love her, he kept telling himself. This wasn't love what he was feeling.

Bloody hell, he needed a distraction. A good fight with an ugly demon should do the trick.

"Hi, Will," came Tara's voice.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"I'm still at the apartment."

"Just don't go anywhere and make sure the apartment is locked. There's some demon on the loose. Are you alone?"

"No, Willow is with me."

"Good, make sure she stays with you."

Pocketing the phone he turned in his seat to look at Xander and Buffy in the back.

"So what's the plan?"

"We find it and kill it," she replied glibly.

"This isn't your regular demon we are talking about here. This thing is super strong, like an Ubervamp or something?" Xander pointed out.

"It could easily kill either one of us, and especially you two."

"Oh, great," Buffy muttered, "Just how I wanted to spend my Christmas Eve, being dead again."

A sudden sense of foreboding hit him. He had a bad feeling about this. His eyes sought hers.

"You don't leave my side."

Nothing was going to happen to her, not again, he'd make sure of that. He expected a sardonic answer, but given her expression he could see she wouldn't be. She was as equally protective of him. Of course she was. _She loves you. No. She loves Spike. You are Spike. No. He was William_.

"Bugger this, let's just find go find it and no splitting up."

* * *

The thing had left the Bronze, leaving bruised and bloody bodies in its wake. It had obviously moved on. They quietly walked down an adjacent alley way. Will attuned his hearing for the slightest sound.

He tried hard to focus. Don't think of her, don't think of her, he kept silently chided.

"I think I found it's scent," Xander spoke, breaking the eerie silence.

"You can smell it?"

"I've fought it already, so yeah."

Xander went on a bit ahead of them, sniffing the air and reminding Will of a bloodhound.

"Tara said you've been having nightmares," Buffy spoke alongside him.

She had to bring this up now! It was the last thing he wanted to talk about and especially with her. She was the cause of it all to begin with.

"No thanks to you," he returned sharply.

She flinched. Pain skittered across her face. He instantly felt bad. "Sorry."

Folding her arms across her chest, she averted her gaze from his.

"No I am. I shouldn't have brought it up."

So why did she? And if she wanted to damn well discuss it they might as well. Because in truth, he needed to talk to someone about it, someone responsible for everything that had happened.

"I'm changing, Buffy."

Her eyes widened with worry. It offered little comfort.

"I feel it in here," he pointed at his chest. "I don't know who I am. My feelings are all jumbled, nothing makes sense, and she keeps calling for me."

Something akin to dread flickered across her face. Taking a deep steadying breath she murmured the name of the woman who had taken to haunting his dreams – _Drusilla._

Sudden emotion made it difficult for him to speak. He managed a nod of his head.

Her eyes filled with tears. "This is all my fault."

Yes, it was, there was no denying it, but he couldn't hate her. If anything he feared the opposite was beginning to happen.

"I think we've already been over this, Buffy. What's done is done."

His voice filled with sad resignation, he raised a hand to touch her cheek. "I don't blame you for not loving a monster."

She looked so sad. Tears trickled down her cheeks. "I didn't know then what I know now." She swallowed, her voice shook. "I wish I had."

Gently he brushed her tears away with his thumb. He should be pissed and he was, it conflicted with the strong feeling of tenderness that swamped him. This was nothing but pure torture.

"This way guys," Xander yelled over his shoulder, bringing Will back down to earth with a thud.

He tore his gaze away from Buffy. Swallowed the giant size lump in his throat and managed to croak. "Alright, we're coming."

"We still have a demon to kill," he murmured to her and they followed after Xander.

They were soon jogging at a brisk pace, down familiar pathways and Buffy was barely paying any attention to it. Her thoughts and emotions were still too caught up in the sad resignation she'd seen in Will's eyes. It broke her heart, yet again.

"I think I see it," Xander exclaimed.

_Pull yourself together, girl_, she silently chided. Now wasn't the time to let emotion get the better of her.

_I don't blame you for not loving a monster._ How those words tore a piece from her heart.

"It's heading for the old high school ruins," Xander continued.

"Of course naturally," she returned. "It probably came from the Hellmouth."

"I thought that was sealed?" Will frowned.

"Maybe someone has opened it," Xander suggested.

They came to a sudden halt at what had once been the front steps leading the high school. Buffy peered into the inky darkness, the hairs on the back of her neck rose.

"Where did it go?" Xander murmured.

"Something's wrong," she began, "We don't go in there."

Both Xander and Will glanced at her.

"We can't let it roam the streets killing people," Xander pointed out.

Buffy bit down on her lip. "I know." But she still couldn't shake off the feeling something was horribly wrong in the rubble of their former high school.

"Buffy's right," Will spoke. "I think we need to go home and talk to my father about what we should do next."

Sudden relief hit her. Thank god. She shot him a grateful look. He quickly averted his eyes from hers, as if it pained him too much to even look at her. She didn't blame him.

"All right, let's get out of here, this place gives me the creeps," Xander muttered.

They walked across the lawn to the road. No one spoke. Buffy's mind was still caught up in William's pain. If only she could undo it all. Though there was no point in thinking that way as Will had bluntly put it – _what's done is done._

She shoved her hands in her pockets and glanced sideways at Will. His face was drawn and tense. _I'm changing, Buffy. _Those words made her shiver. What if he were to remember … everything. Then what would happen? Would he hate her? Or would he forgive her?

She sucked in a pained breath. Time would only tell. Right now he didn't remember and she hoped to god it stayed that way.

The phone vibrating in her pocket made for a handy distraction. She pulled it out.

"It's Giles," she murmured, answering it. "Giles?"

"Where are you?"

His voice sounded urgent and harried.

"At the high school."

"The demon … have you seen it?"

"Not close up … hang on … take that back."

The demon thing stood between them and the road. How did it suddenly get there?

"What does it look like?" she heard Giles ask.

"Pale, bald with pronounced browridges, yellow eyes and kind of like …."

"It's a Turok Han. They are an older, first form of a vampire," Giles finished for her. "They are a ferocious primal killing machine and Buffy … your wooden stake won't work on them."

"Terrific," she muttered, feeling her skin crawl with a slow dread. "How do we kill it?"

"Decapitation or sunlight."

"Well the latter isn't an option."

She noticed the way its eyes rested on Will. He was the target. The dread turned to terror. No way. Not on her watch.

"I've gotta go."

Her heart pounded heavily in her chest as it advanced on them.

"Any suggestions?" Xander hissed.

"Yeah, we have to rip its head off."

"Well that's just dandy," Will muttered. "How the hell are we going to do that?"

"We need strong wire," she suggested.

"And where do we get that?"

Good question. Right now her own adrenalin was pumping through her veins. The Turok Han began circling them, its eyes never leaving Will.

"It seems awfully fixated on you," Buffy breathed.

"Yeah, I kind of noticed."

No way was it having him. "Stay behind me."

"No, this is my fight too."

"Now isn't the time for heroics," she hissed. "I'm tougher than you."

"Like hell you are," he hissed back.

"I suggest we lure it into the school," Xander chiped in. "Plenty of broken stuff, bound to be wire lying about the place."

As much as she really wanted to avoid the school it really was there only option.

"Okay."

The next few minutes unfolded like a bad surreal short film. Disjointed, nothing made sense and they were losing.

The Turok Han was impossible to beat. Her emotions were already raw to begin with and that didn't help. She was continually distracted by Will. Terrified something bad was going to happen to him. Because this … this was all her fault, her doing.

She found herself flying through the air once again. She braced herself for the impact as she ploughed into the half broken wall.

"Buffy!" she heard Will call through the ringing in her ears.

How much more could she take of this. Her body was already so bruised. Dragging herself to her feet, she could see Xander aiming a punch at the Turok only to be flung through the air, just like her. Turning, it eyed her and began heading her way. Buffy tried to summon all the strength she had left in her weary body. Its eyes gleamed. She had faced death in the face before. She could do it again.

"C'mon ugly, give it your best shot. I've already had a bad last three months. What's one more day?"

"Buffy … no!" she heard Will's desperate voice yell.

What happened next would haunt her forever. Will running towards her, placing himself between her and the Turok.

She tried to reach him, such was her desperation, but the Turok was quicker. With one hand it picked up Will by the throat and threw him like a rag doll. She watched him fly through air. His body collided with a metal pole.

She ran towards him. Lungs burning, heart pounding. But she never reached him. Spots swam before her eyes. Sudden, sharp pain radiated through her body. She fell into the dark abyss that swallowed her. Her screams rendered the air.

Then there was silence.

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* * *

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**A/N:** Sorry about the cliffie! Good news is that I have written most of the next chapter and should upload it soon. Would love a review! My writing flow has been in such a fragile state these last six months that any encouragement would really really help. I'm always open to suggestions and ideas. Tell me what you like, or what you would like to see happen. I always love reading what people have to say.

Thanks for reading.

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	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: ** Thanks for the reviews last chapter! They really made my day, so much so, that the writing flow returned and I had the best writing day yesterday that I've had in six months! Which means you guys get another chapter just three days later, which doesn't happen often with me.

Enjoy! Warning though, there is some angst in this chapter.

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* * *

**Chapter Seven.**

* * *

**.**

**.**

Buffy heard her own breathing, like some distorted sound effect from the end of a long, receding tunnel. "No," she moaned, not even aware she was saying it. "Oh, God … No." This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening.

Somehow she managed to pull herself to her feet. Pushing her hair back from her forehead, she tried to piece the broken images in a semblance of order. She had to find Spike. That thing … it took him. No, it threw him … he fell … over there. She wildly spun around.

"Spike!" she screamed in desperation. "W-i-l-l!"

Blindly, she staggered through the rubble, tripping over broken bricks. He had to be okay. It couldn't end this way. She would find him, and then she was going to put everything right again.

Buffy continued with her desperate search, calling his name, calling both names, because he really was two different people rolled into one very special person.

Then she found him lying in a heap, unmoving. No. No. No. He couldn't be dead.

"Will!" she cried, kneeling beside him, heart thumping wildly in her chest.

Frantically, she felt for a pulse. It was steady and strong, it offered some small comfort. He was alive at least.

"Buffy," she heard Xander call.

Sudden relief flooded all of her senses; thank god.

"I'm here," she called back, "I need your help."

Xander's pale face came into view. His eyes fell to Will's still body on the ground, sudden shock registering on his face by the sight of blood pooling on the ground.

"I can't move him like this, I need a first aid kit, with bandages," her wild unfocused gaze met his. "Go find one."

"I think I can find where the sick room used to be. Call 911."

Xander was gone in the blink of an eye, really it was handy with him being a vampire now with that super-speed. Her hands trembled as she fingered the phone out of her pocket. The Shaking didn't stop as she pressed 911.

She tried to be calm, feeling anything but. "I-I need help." She licked her dry lips. "A man is seriously injured. We need an ambulance … at the old high school."

"Help is on its way, Maam."

Dropping the phone, Buffy returned her attention to Will. There was a fair amount of blood, but superficial head wounds could bleed a lot, she silently told herself as if those words could offer some comfort.

She turned Will's head just a fraction to look at the gash to the side of his head. It was deep and would need stitching. Buffy wasn't at all sure on how serious it was, but the fact that Will was still unconscious was not a good sign.

"C'mon, Will," she urged. "Wake up … please … you have to wake up."

But his face was deadly pale and unmoving. A sob escaped from her throat. Leaning back on her haunches, she raked a hand through her hair.

"You know you're just as stupid as a human as you were a vampire," she said in a gruff voice that ended on a choked sob. "Never stopping to think." Her hands fell to her thighs. She drew in a deep breath. "I-I can take care of myself. You know Slayer strength and all, and you still haven't beaten me in a fight yet."

Raising a trembling hand, she brushed her knuckles gently along his cheek. _Pull it together, girl. _Wiping the tears from her eyes, she proceeded to feel along his neck and chest for any broken bones. She noted the unusual protuberance of several of his ribs, but his breathing was steady and that was a good sign, because it meant none of the fractured ribs had punctured his lungs.

Xander returned with a first aid bag.

"I found this," he spoke, his voice sounding calm despite the growing concern in his eyes.

Buffy numbly watched him pull a brace from the bag and place it around Will's neck.

"Just in case," Xander told her. "He's been in worst scraps than this before," he continued. "He will be okay. He's strong, Buffy."

She knew Xander was just saying that to make her feel better. Because he really didn't look good.

Grabbing several pieces of gauze, Xander placed them against the gash to the side of Will's head. He ripped the plastic wrapping of a crepe bandage with his teeth.

"Hold the gauze to his head, Buffy," he instructed.

Buffy did as Xander instructed and tried to block out the image of Will's pale still face and the blood congealing in his hair. Xander wrapped the bandage around his head to hold the gauze in place.

"Since when did you get so adept with the whole first aid thingy," she asked, her voice not much more than a croak.

Xander folded Will's arms across his chest.

"Grab his legs Buffy," he ordered. She did as he bid.

They carried him out of the rubble to the roadside. Buffy could hear the wails of an ambulance in the distance. But she didn't dare hope. Not yet.

"Hold on," she whispered in his ear. "You can't leave me."

* * *

There was just darkness. At times he could hear voices speaking in anxious whispered tones around him. Then there were other times, when he could hear just one persistent voice, seeming to reach out to him through the dark black fog that had shrouded his mind. The voice was strong, insistent and strangely familiar. He clung to that voice when everything around him made no sense. He didn't know where he was, seeming to be at random locations in different places. He couldn't tell if he was in bed with Tara, having a bad dream or lying on the ground at the school. Everything was just one big confused haze of broken images, disjointed feelings and pain.

He remembered something like this once. It was dark there too. He had to claw his way out of it.

"_That's right my prince." _ A voice, her voice. He knew it, had always known it. _"Come to me. I'm waiting for you."_

This was wrong. It wasn't real. Things were different now.

"No," he moaned, his body twisting in pain. "You're – not … here."

He felt something cool and soothing on his forehead.

"Shss, it's okay," a female voice spoke softly.

He grabbed hold of the hand that caressed his face, wanting to feel comforted. He knew this voice. She was light, light that banished the darkness.

"I'm …" his mouth felt like sand paper. He tried to swallow. "Don't let them take me. It's dark there."

He wanted to open his eyes and look at her, but his eyelids felt so heavy and the effort was just too hard. He couldn't fight it.

He felt soft fingers caress his face. "Go to sleep, Will."

_Don't want to sleep._

His sleep was the stuff of nightmares. There was no rest for him. He was alone in a sea of nothing, except for the trickling of water in the distance. Maybe it was rain? Strange sounds drifted through the air; muffled voices, horse hoofs on cobbled roads. Then there was laughter. It was soft, almost musical.

She was here. His eyes slowly opened.

She stood before him in all her splendour and dark beauty.

'_You walk in worlds the others can't begin to even imagine.'_

_Tears gathered on his eye lashes. It hurt. Why did life hurt so much? _

'_I see what you want.'_

_He found himself captivated by her words. _

'_Something glowing and glistening. Something … effulgent.'_

_Finally someone who understood him. The rejected pain of the woman he loved, the woman who could never love him in return, receded. _

_Drusilla approached him. Her fingers rested on the top button of his shirt. 'Do you want it?' she purred._

_He'd never wanted anything more. To be loved. To be someone … to matter … to be truly alive._

'_Oh, yes.' He lightly touched her chest. 'God, yes.'_

_Pulling back his shirt collar, she sunk her fangs into his neck. The pain was sudden, sharp and searing, but then it turned to such pleasure. He felt his human existence slip away, along with any regret, remorse or heartache. _As fleeting as it was.

Memories merged in with each other with such shocking clarity. Emotional pain clawed at him. His back arched with the intensity of it. The entire façade of this alternative life crashed down into fragments around him.

He was a monster.

Every life he ever took flashed before him. A wave of sickness washed over him.

'_Wake up!' _A voice screamed. _'You have to wake up!'_

His whole body suddenly jerked violently. He sat bolt upright. His eyes flew open. He drew in a deep ragged breath of air.

Panic hit him hard and sudden. Where the hell was he?

His eyes took in his surroundings. He was on a bed, there was a beeping sound in the corner. The room smelt of disinfectant.

He was in a hospital.

How did a vampire end up in a hospital? Only … the beeping … it was a machine connected to … He raised a hand, frowning at the plastic clasp on his finger.

A slow realisation began to take hold. He had a heart. He could feel it. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, feel the heart pounding in his chest.

Pushing back the covers, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. How … it … it couldn't be. Memories began to flash before his eyes. Other memories. He was William.

He whole body shook as he stumbled to the mirror on the wall. He had another life. A different one. Two lives.

As he approached the mirror, his reflected image gazed back at him. He hadn't seen it in nearly a hundred and twenty years.

His legs buckled beneath him. It all came rushing back at him with disturbing precision.

Buffy.

She had done this to him.

Through the haze of anguish that threatened to suffocate him, there was a red-hot rage drifting around the edges of his thoughts, hovering like a fog that could descend at any moment and consume him like fire.

Was he so vile that she couldn't even bear to look at him?

He could see the disgust on her face. He well remembered it. The disdain. _'It'll never be you, Spike. It could never be you. You're beneath me.'_

"Of course I am," he muttered bitterly.

How could she ever love someone – like him?

His hand clenched into a fist. Was this some sort of sick revenge? He glowered at his reflection.

"I'm human. She – bloody – well – made me human!"

How the hell did it happen?!

His head throbbed. There were gaps, large empty spaces of nothing. Gaps he couldn't fill. All he could taste was blood in his mouth, the blood of hundreds of lives.

Grabbing both sides of the basin in front of him, he threw up. Their faces flashed before him, again and again, pale and terrified. Their screams echoing in his ears.

Anguish sobs racked his body.

He'd been a monster and now … oh, God. He had a soul and it burned like battery acid in the pit of his stomach.

Guilt. Pain filled guilt hit him hard.

Lifting his eyes to his reflected image, he suddenly hated what he saw. The face that stared back at him. He didn't want a face. Least before he never had to look at it. See what he had done. Feel – anything. He could walk away leaving a bloody mess in his wake with no remorse.

Now! Now he had look at himself! And how he despised it. Raising his clenched fist, he smashed it into the mirror. Shattered pieces fell into the basin below.

The door behind him flew open.

He turned around to see the very woman who had done this to him. She had no idea of the hell she'd put him in.

"You," he growled.

Her face was pale and tense. Pained shadows streaked across her face. "Will," she began.

The sound of his name on her lips infuriated him. "Don't call me that!"

Her expression crumpled into one of distress.

"You did this to me … why?"

Tears streaked down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry ..."

She reached out a hand towards him. A host of emotions swamped him. It hurt him to see her so upset. He wanted to remain angry. He was so angry. He wanted to push her away, but part of him still longed to pull her into his arms.

"Is this what you wanted?" he muttered, despising the obvious pain laced in his broken voice. "Is this some sort of revenge? Make me human, give me a soul so I can feel – so I can relive all the lives I took?"

Total misery crossed her face as she shook her head. "N-No."

The hand she held out towards him dropped to her side.

"Because it worked," he hissed. "You can't begin to image how it feels to be a murderer."

"I-I'm … I didn't mean," she stammered.

"I've killed hundreds of people, Buffy. I remember all of them!" He stepped towards her, gritting his teeth. "Women, lots of women – and children. Even the girl in the coal bin!"

"Please, Spike … stop. I know. You don't think I would have fixed this if I could?"

She took in a deep steadying breath. "I don't want you to suffer … the wish … I didn't realise."

He frowned – the wish? Other, more recent memories began to slowly trickle through.

"You made a wish to a vengeance demon?" he murmured.

She nodded. "Yes."

He had a life, a whole other life, with her and Dawn and … "Joyce."

His eyes met hers. "She's alive."

Buffy nodded again.

"At least something good has come out of this mess."

The sharp, searing pain in his head began to intensify. Another wave of nausea washed over him. He could feel Buffy's anxious eyes watching him.

"Spike," she began. "You need to lie down. You have a bad concussion. You've been out of it for over an hour and the doctors don't know why."

She went to reach for his arm. He stepped back away from her.

Her eyes filled with more tears. Was she crying for him now? Or was it just guilt? Either way, he didn't want it. Moving past her, he reached for the bed. He needed to lie down before he passed out again.

She went to help him.

He held up a warning hand. "Don't."

"You have every right to hate me." Her voice broke off on a sob.

Could this get anymore tortuous?

"I don't hate you … I-I could never hate you."

She wrapped her arms around herself. Her face dark and hurting. She looked thinner than ever. He didn't want to think about that. He just wanted her gone.

"Leave me, Buffy. I can't handle seeing you."

His words, he could see, had visibly struck her.

She stepped back. "Okay, okay. Dawn is just in the waiting room. Do you want me to get her?"

His Niblett. Now step kid sister. A sudden light in this dark world of his.

He nodded.

* * *

Buffy all but bolted from his room. Words couldn't even begin to describe the total anguish she felt. His rejection hurt so much. It felt like he'd run a sword through her heart.

And – he remembered – everything – just about – everything about his other life. She couldn't be sure how much of this one.

His words echoed in her ears. _Is this what you wanted? You can't begin to imagine how it feels to be a murderer._

She had done this to him.

_Pull it together. You have to be strong. _How many times had she uttered those words to herself tonight?

Of course he was going to be upset when he remembered. She just hadn't expected him to be so – traumatized.

Leaning against the wall, she tried to regain some composure before facing the others.

Running stiff fingers through her hair, she managed to make her legs move over to a hand basin. She splashed cold water on her face, and caught her tired pale reflection in the mirror. She looked every bit the wreck she felt.

Her eyes were red from crying. She swallowed.

'_Will.'_

'_Don't call me that!' _

_His tortured face flashed before her eyes._

She had to stop punishing herself. She had to put the break down on hold till she was alone, locked away in her bedroom.

Straightening up, Buffy turned away from the mirror and headed for the waiting room doors.

She pushed them open. All eyes turned her way. Anxious faces, waiting to see if Will would be okay. No one had given a shit about him as Spike, except Dawn.

It made sense that she would be the one he wanted right now.

Her gaze swept over their faces, from her mom, to Giles, Tara, Willow, Xander and lastly Dawn.

"H-He wants to see you."

Surprise lit up her face and relief.

"He's awake. A bit broken up."

Oh, hell, that was an understatement, but if anyone could settle him – it would be Dawn.

Dawn dashed out of the chair and was through the door before Buffy could blink. Her shoulder's sagged with the enormity of everything that had just happened. Spots swam before her eyes.

"Buffy," came her Mom's worried voice. "Buffy, are you okay?"

Her legs gave way beneath her. Xander caught her in his arms.

"You're exhausted," he murmured.

He gently placed her in a chair.

"Willow, can you get her something to eat – please."

She couldn't take it anymore. Burying her face in her hands, she wept. And she wept. So much for saving the breakdown till she had reached the seclusion of her bedroom.

Soothing arms slipped around her. She caught a waft of her Mom's familiar perfume. Buffy went willingly as her Mom drew her into a warm embrace.

"Shss, it's okay. It'll be okay."

The words comforted her for a bit, but she didn't have the strength to tell her Mom, or the heart that – no - it wouldn't be. It would never be okay.

It couldn't, because … "He remembers," she whispered to her Mom.

* * *

Spike tried to control his breathing, but it hurt. Lifting his shirt, he gazed down at the bandages wrapped around his chest. His ribs were broken. He could feel it. He screwed his eyes shut, as a searing pain sliced through him. Despite his attempts at fighting back the tears, a few managed to leak out. Give him physical pain any day over the emotions that threatened to consume him.

"Will," came Dawn's worried voice.

Opening his eyes, he slowly turned his head to look at her. She was such a damn sight for sore eyes.

"Niblett."

She flew across the room and was by his beside in less than a second. Wrapping her arms around him, he tried not to wince.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't, ribs are sore is all."

Her sympathetic gaze searched his face. "Is that why you're crying?"

He nodded, was all he could manage.

"Oh, Will." She gently lay her head on his chest. "I was so worried."

He patted her back and felt soothed, if only for a moment. She really was a breath of fresh air, and innocent. Just a girl. He'd nearly died protecting her, would have if he could and save Buffy from having to do it instead.

The emotional pain was back. He pushed thoughts of Buffy out of his mind.

Dawn raised her head and looked at him. "There was no way I was going to lose my big brother. I don't think I've ever prayed so much, besides who else is going to give me driving lessons?"

"Oh, is that right? That's all I'm good for, putting up with your driving?"

She gave him a cheeky grin. "Of course, no one else will."

He managed a brief smile in response.

"And Buffy can't drive."

His body stiffened at the mention of her name, but Dawn prattled on, impervious to his discomfort.

"And as for Giles? Well you know what your Dad is like," she continued, rolling her eyes.

Hang on – Giles was his father?

"What?"

Was this some joke? He … he … he even felt something. Something he couldn't comprehend, it … was it a fondness, like a son had for his father?

"Bloody hell."

Dawn frowned. "What is it?"

He shook his head, wincing at the stab of pain. It was probably best he just didn't move at all.

It had been so long since he'd known a father's love. His real father had died when he was ten. He could barely remember him now.

And it was strange, because there were memories of Giles, being his father. Giles and his love for libraries. How many times, as a boy, had he sat in a library corner bored out of his brain as his Giles Dad poured over one book after another?

He remembered – Giles – instilling a love for knowledge into him. And mixed into that were the memories of Giles chaining him up in his bathtub, giving him blood to drink out of a mug with a straw. He remembered how he drove the him batty with his constant whining. _'If I let you out. You promise you'll do as you're told?'_

"Will?" Dawn clicked her fingers in front of his face. "You're zoning out."

His gaze focused on hers, though at this close range she was a blur. He blinked, tried to focus on her face again. Dawn must have got what he was trying to do.

She held up a pair of glasses. "I thought you might need these."

Terrific. Along with being human again, now meant the return of his crappy eyesight.

He reluctantly took the glasses from her.

"I know how much you love reading. I couldn't make up my mind which one of your favourite books to bring so I grabbed a whole pile."

She proceeded to upend her bag over the bed. Books sprawled over his stomach. Dawn caught one as it fell off the bed.

"Opps."

She held the book up. "Famous Poets of the 19th century." A nostalgic smile crossed her face. "You take this book everywhere with you."

"I guess I have a thing for old romantic poets," he murmured.

"You want me to read some to you?"

"Sure."

Just her presence here alone was soothing for now. "You pick one out."

He watched her leaf through the pages. His thumb and forefinger rubbed the smooth metallic rim of the glasses in his hand.

'_I'm not wearing them.' He stared defiantly at his mother._

'_If you wear them now it'll correct the problem, and you won't need them when you are older, except for reading and driving,' she patiently explained._

'_Glasses are for geeks. I keep getting teased.'_

'_That's no excuse for getting into fights, Will. Every second day you have been coming home with a black eye.'_

'_I'm not putting up with any shit.'_

'_Watch your language. And fighting other boys all the time for just the slightest insult is not about putting up with shit. I swear Will that you just like to fight for the sake of it. It worries me.'_

The image blurred before his eyes only to be replaced by another. A different face, but much the same, both kind. Her hair was swept up in an elegant bun.

_He handed her the broken glasses. 'You're glasses,' she gasped. 'Oh William, what happened to them?'_

'_A boy at school, George. He broke them.'_

'_Why?'_

_Ashamed, he look down at his boots. _

'_He doesn't like me. He says I'm weak for a boy. He pushed me over, my glasses fell on to the ground, and he stepped on them.' Will pulled the now also ruined slate out of his bag. 'This fell into the mud. I'm sorry Mother. I am deeply vexed.'_

_Her hands rested on his shoulders. 'You don't have to take this William. You stand up to boys like him.'_

'_I want to … I don't know how.'_

'_It's not your fault without a father here.' She pulled her into his arms. 'One day you have to grow out of this shyness, William. You have to be brave.'_

"You're doing it again – Will!" Dawn exclaimed.

He blinked. "What?"

"Your eyes go all glazy."

"I'm remembering stuff."

"Like what?"

He glanced at her, noticing the way her forehead dented with worry. He felt a wave of tenderness sweep over him.

"Nothing. It's okay, just the bump to my head I guess," he muttered, gesturing to the bandage.

"You want me to get a Doctor?"

"No, Pet. Read a poem for me. Could do with the distraction."

He couldn't distinguish between what was real and what wasn't, because both appeared to be equally real. It left a unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach.

His eyes rested on Dawn. Except for her. She was the one constant person. He had played the role of protector to that of big brother. His feelings were the same.

"This looks good, I think. You've highlighted lines in it."

"Which ones?"

"It will not burn so long as I must watch," she began to read. "My slumbers – if I slumber – are not sleep. But a continuance of enduring thought, which then I can resist not: in my heart there is a vigil, and these eyes but close to look within; and yet I live, and bear the aspect and the form of breathing men."

* * *

Food was the last thing Buffy felt like, but there was no getting out of it. A toasted ham and cheese sandwich along with two cups of coffee later and Buffy felt half human again, except for the deep ache in her heart. She doubted that would ever go away.

Giles sat on one side, her Mom on the other.

Xander was pacing.

"You didn't see him Giles. His face. He looked to be in so much pain."

"He's strong."

"I-I don't know – this – how do you get past it? It's not like he can just stop the memories now, and he has a soul that'll torment him. I know Angel never got past it."

Giles expression was blank, but of course it would be. Angel didn't exist now. Giles had no memory of him.

She sighed deeply. "Will doesn't want to see me. He says he doesn't hate me, but I think he does."

Her mother squeezed her shoulder. "Give him time, Buffy. He cares deeply for you."

Once, maybe yes … but not now.

"What are his memories of us, Buffy?" Xander asked. "What exactly will he remember of – me?"

She could see how much this mattered to him. Oh, crap. Glancing at Tara, she could see the equal worry on her face. They all cared so much for him now.

"Um, well I think you all compare favourably to me." She remembered the words he had sung that night just before she obliterated that world for this one - _Let me rest in peace. _ His rejection tonight; _I can't handle seeing you. _That pretty much summed it up.

"I mean us, Buffy," Xander persisted.

"Well - he was kind of on the outer, but not our enemy, least not anymore. I know he was fond of you Mom and Dawnie. He was protective of her like he is now. And he was nice to the girls. I don't think he minded Willow or Tara, but you …" she glanced up at Xander. "You two rubbed each other up the wrong way."

Xander didn't look happy. Swearing under his breath, he turned around and stormed off making Buffy feel wretched all over again.

Willow ran after him.

"And me?" Giles enquired.

She shut her eyes, braced herself for the reaction that would come.

"We often used him when it suited us. I think he was as wary of you as you were of him."

"So now my son is going to hate me," Giles muttered.

"I don't think he will," she quickly added. "I don't know how much he exactly remembers of this world, but if he does then it should be okay?"

"The fact that the only person he wants to see is Dawn, speaks for itself," Giles sighed.

"Give it time, Rupert. We haven't even spoken to him yet," her Mom suggested. "Whatever he was before, I think he still had a heart. Vampire or not he did care for Dawn."

"The only person who I think he's going to be angry with is me, Giles. I'm the one that screwed it all up. I'm the one that made the stupid wish. I'm the cause for all his misery."

How much she had paid for it since too. She didn't know how much more she could take.

"But he did love you," Tara spoke, "It changed him. It made him want to be a better man."

"He said he did."

Buffy hadn't forgotten just how astute Tara could be.

"I-I did trust him enough to protect my Mom and Dawn."

"You see," she encouraged, "there is a positive to draw from."

Buffy felt a moment's gratitude to the young woman. Hopefully Spike would remember that, one day at least.

"Tell me about the Turok Han?" Giles enquired.

With all that had happened in the last two hours, she'd completely forgotten about the demon. It now made for a handy distraction.

"It was incredibly strong, unbeatable. We couldn't stop it. It managed to knock all three of us out …"

"Yet, it didn't kill any of you."

"Maybe it thought we were dead?"

"Or maybe it hadn't meant to kill you."

"But that makes no sense," Buffy queried. "Are you saying that it just happened to lure us to the school so it could knock us unconscious?"

"It does sound far-fetched, Giles," her Mom agreed.

"What if it just really wanted Will to get knocked unconscious?"

"Why?"

"To make him remember."

Silence filled the room as those words sunk in. Buffy still couldn't comprehend it. Who would? Who would even know?

"Someone had to of released the Turok Han. It's my guess that it came from the Hellmouth," Giles continued as he polished his glasses.

Buffy shuddered at the thought. Would it ever be over? Right now she didn't have the mental strength for this. Luckily she wouldn't have to think more about as they were suddenly distracted by Dawn entering the waiting room.

Giles stood quickly and approached her. "How is he?"

"He's asleep now. I think reading him poetry helped."

"He can't be left alone," Buffy butted in. "Not in his present state of mind."

She shivered at the thought of what he might do to himself. She'd heard the mirror smash, seen the raw pain in his eyes.

"I can stay," Dawn offered. "I know he feels better when I'm there."

And she was the last person he wanted, Buffy inwardly sighed.

"No, you need to sleep," her Mom interjected.

Giles was too unsure of Will's reaction towards him. Buffy could see it pained him so, as much as it pained her.

"I'll do it," Tara offered. "I am his fiancée after all, and even if he doesn't exactly recall what I mean to him, at least his feelings for me were neutral in that other time."

As much as it broke Buffy's heart to say, but Tara was right. "I think that's the best idea."

.

* * *

Buffy fell into bed in total exhaustion, both physically and emotionally. Curling up into a ball under the blanket, she wanted to shut the world out. Find a place of rest if that were possible, but being alone in the silence of her bedroom every word Spike had uttered tonight played over and over in her mind, haunting her.

With a sinking realization, she knew that it was way too late to put it right. Now all she could do was help Spike, if he would ever let her, adjust to this new world.

One day he would have to forgive himself. She had to convince him that it was the demon within that had made him the monster. William was and had always been a good man.

Somehow she would make him believe in himself. And just maybe, one day, he would even love her again.

.

* * *

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A/N: Thanks for reading. Reviews are always muchly loved and very appreciated. I love feedback. Pretty much anything will do. Please do let me know what you like and/or what you would like to see. Sad as it is now, things do get better and there are some surprises along the way. This is very much a journey for both of these character.

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	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews! They are like nuggets of gold, and I love reading them. Keep them coming!**

**The angst isn't as intense this chapter. **

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 8.**

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The steady beeping of the machine is what eventually woke him. For a moment he felt completely disorientated. Then the memories from last night began to filter through. With it came the pain. Followed by more memories. They all rolled into each other. If he could stop them, he would. Because with every new memory came all of the attached emotions. Emotions so raw in their intensity that he'd give anything not to feel them.

New physical sensations he'd long forgotten, were also returning.

His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth, ugh. It felt like sand paper.

Water. He needed a gallon of water.

Forcing his heavy eyelids open, Spike gazed up at the white ceiling above. It took a moment for his gaze to focus.

God, but the thirst was almost unbearable. Even though technically speaking he'd supposedly been human for 25 years. What he was before was the stronger of the two memories. He guessed that 25 years really paled into insignificance to the 100 plus years as a vampire.

Physical pain was nothing new. Vampires got hurt, felt pain, just not as intensely as this. And the thirst …

He turned his head towards the bedside locker in search of water. A young woman was reclined in a chair, her fair hair falling over her shoulder as she slept. At first he thought it might be Buffy. Then he remembered she'd cut her hair short. He had also bluntly told her that he couldn't handle seeing her. How upset she had look. And sad.

As fast as the memory came, he shoved it away. It hurt too much to go there.

Instead he focused on the young woman in the chair and came to the realization that it was Tara. The memories of her - being with her were still there. What he felt, that was … different, but he found he still deeply cared about her.

Shifting in his bed, her eyes opened. A slow hesitant smile tilted up the corners of her mouth.

"How are you feeling?"

"Um … thirsty."

"I'll get you some water," she hurriedly spoke.

Getting out of the chair, he watched her reach for the jug of water on a nearby table and pour some into a glass for him.

He attempted to sit up, ignoring the sharp sudden pain in his head and ribs. He didn't care how much it hurt or what the Doctors had to say, he was getting out of this hospitable today. As to what he would do or go … aw, hell, he didn't know.

Where did he go from here?

Tara must have noticed the indecision on his face. She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay. We all still care about you."

Her words offered a little comfort. She handed him a glass of water. He thankfully took it from her and sculled it straight down.

"Buffy told us you had remembered," she continued, taking the now empty glass from him and refilling it. "You know we kind of worried this might happen."

They had. He remembered. Lying in bed together, his arms wrapped around her, wanting to hold onto the illusion of this life.

Well that was totally shattered.

Handing out the refilled glass of water, he took it from her. "Thanks."

She sat back down on the chair, looking pale and tired.

"Have you been here all night?" he asked.

"We all thought I should be the one to stay. Buffy said you shouldn't be left alone."

Dawn's was the last face he remembered. He had felt soothed by her presence to the point that the tiredness over took him. But it would too much for Niblet to stay the whole night. Out of anyone else, Tara would be the next choice he'd want here. She had a calm air about her.

"What do you feel for me?" she asked, her face open and honest.

"I remember us," he murmured, "What I feel is all mixed up." And that was the truth. There was a love of sorts there, but caught up in that were his strong feelings towards Buffy.

"Do you still love me?"

He didn't know how to answer that, not wanting to hurt her feelings. Because she did still matter to him.

"It's okay, because my feelings are changing too," she continued.

They were?

"Willow," she stammered, biting down on her lip. "I think I'm beginning to find myself attracted to her."

She look so troubled by this. Least maybe he could help out here.

"It makes sense. You two were together before."

"Oh."

A tentative smile crossed her pretty face. There was a very natural beauty about her, Spike observed. Was that why he got with her in this other world of Buffy's vengeance wish creation? Because it really didn't make sense to him, unless she wanted him to be happy? Just not with her.

'_It'll never be you, Spike.'_

How those words still hurt, but something had changed. What she felt for him … there was a need. She needed him, but she didn't exactly want him, did she? As for love? He could never tell with her, what she wanted half the time.

"I guess we should call the engagement off?" Tara spoke.

He glanced up at her. "Yeah, I guess we should."

The memories of her, he found, were happy ones. He was for a time content. Two things he'd never ever really had.

Her hand slipped in his. She gently squeezed his fingers. "I want to remain close friends, we had that long before the romance."

Those words were soothing … yes … friends. He had a lot of friends now. Vampires didn't really make friends, and as William from long before, he'd never really fitted in then. Always existing on the outer periphery of social circles. A butt of their jokes.

They were not laughing when he drove a railroad spike into their heads. With the brutal images that flashed before his eyes, a wave of nausea swept over him. He screwed his eyes shut.

"Will? Are you okay?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm going to be sick."

Pushing the covers aside, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. His body felt so weak. Everything hurt, especially his fractured ribs. It wasn't as bad as last night, which meant he was healing and, he still healed faster than the average person. That's right, Buffy's doing.

'_I guess when you made your wish, you made me human, but left me with all the fighting skills I would have had as a vampire. It's obvious that's what you admired about him … me _… _It was only then that he was your equal wasn't it?'_

His heart thumped painfully in her chest. Damn.

"I don't think you should be getting out of bed. There is a spew bowl on the bedside table."

Handing him the bowl, he took it from her. His gaze met with hers. He could see the compassion there.

"It's going to be hard for a while. Despite what you think Buffy has done to you. You are still now loved and cared for by many people. Just think of that when it gets really tough."

He nodded. "I know." Just that it all felt so surreal.

"You probably might not want to hear this, but Buffy does love you."

Did she? He had wanted it so badly before, craved just any little crumb she happened to throw his way. The last time he saw her was at the Bronze. One minute she was kissing him, before giving her usual cold shoulder treatment.

He'd stormed out of there, pissed and confused. Walking back to his crypt, he cursed her name, along with this love he felt for her. It was such a burning ache inside of him all of the time and now … now there was just sorrow. It wasn't like a red-hot passion anymore, threatening to consume him.

In fact he sort of felt numb.

He could feel Tara's anxious eyes watching him. Right now he wanted to be alone, lick his wounds and try to make sense of his sudden chaotic world. He might be loved now, but he still had to contend with his internal demons.

"I don't suppose you could help me get out of here?"

"Are you sure you should be doing that?"

"I heal fast, remember. I'm not staying in this hospital."

Tara pressed the call button to summon a nurse. "Okay. I guess we should get your head seen to first."

"Thanks, Pet."

He managed to stand this time, gritting his teeth. The room spun for a moment.

"I think Giles and Joyce want you to stay with them till your better, and you have the apartment, which is all yours. I'd understand if you want me and Xander to move out."

"No, don't move out."

Xander … was a vampire? He shook his head at the absurdity of it. Xander hated vampires in that other life. Fate really was a fickle ironic bitch.

"You know Joyce likes mothering you."

He didn't mind. She was a good woman. Even in the other time, she had been kind to him. And he wanted to be near Dawn, close to the people that had cared about him in that other life – except Buffy.

Present day memories that were slowly returning, told him that she did care for him now. Enough for her to feel guilt over what had happened to him. So she should. All had wanted was her to see him. To look at him and not despise what he was.

But what if none of this had happened? What if they were back in the real world? Would she have ever cared for him? Somehow he doubted it.

"Can you drive me there? I think the basement is still set up the same, from when I used to live there."

"Of course."

Funny how the memories went. How many fond ones he had when he'd lived in the basement. Playing tunes on the guitar till his fingers felt raw, scribbling down lyrics on scraps of paper in much the same frantic passionate way he scribbled out those awful poems he'd once written. Funny how some smaller things just didn't change, but he … he'd taken on the persona of everything he'd never been as William when becoming a vampire. For the first time he'd had power, real and terrifying power. It had gone to his head. He'd loved the monster within then. Revelled in it. The power cast away all of his doubts and insecurities as a human. He had no conscience. No morals. He was free from every single trappings he'd had before.

And then there was this present day William. Still often angry as a boy, finding a way out through his music, with the love of family. Much like before. He'd had a mother who loved him, keeping him grounded, but unlike before, this time around he'd had the love of a step mother, a father, step sisters and friends. He was accepted into a society in a way he'd never experienced before. And it had changed him. Vengeance wish or not, everything about this life was still also real to him. But so was the other, and the other was too disturbing to want to remember in any length of detail.

The doctor wasn't happy about him being discharged, but Spike didn't care.

As he shuffled his way down the corridor to the outside world, Tara by his side. It still felt like he was dreaming. Once outside, his initial instinct was to avoid the sun at all costs.

But that's right … he was human now. One hundred and twenty years of habits was hard to break. God, he felt like a smoke. He fumbled in his pockets, half expecting to find his trusty old lighter. His fingers itched to hold a cigarette to his lips.

He swore under his breath and turned to Tara.

"I don't suppose you have any money on you?"

She frowned. "I think I have a twenty."

"I know you're gonna think the worse of me here, Tara, but I don't suppose you could buy me a packet of smokes."

* * *

Buffy forced herself out of bed at five that morning. She had a job to go too, and life still went on.

She'd only had about four hours sleep and felt shocking. Her body ached all over from last night's fight with the Ubervamp. Xander's new nickname for it.

'_Will might be Spike again, but what are we going to do about the Ubervamp?' _He'd texted her this morning. Really? How could she even begin to think of that now? But probably like her, Xander needed a distraction too. '_Talk to me later',_ she had texted back.

And then there was Spike. _Don't call me Will! _ How angry he'd been. Last night had been so horrible. She had to keep herself busy. Work made for a handy distraction. She covered the bruises to her face with foundation and thankfully the boss hadn't mentioned it. Once done with work, she'd gone home, had another shower, applied more foundation to her bruised face and went to College. But as busy as she kept herself, Spike was all she could think about.

Was he okay?

Would he come home today?

Would he ever forgive her? Did he now hate her?

How she longed to see him. How she envied Dawn, Tara and even her mother. He cared for them, but as for her … well if he ever had truly loved her then hopefully that would come through … wouldn't it … 'if' being the imperative word here.

The day was just pure torture.

Come one in the afternoon her Mom sent a text to say that Will was coming home. He had decided to stay with them till he was better.

Some relief at least, but then she felt all sorts of anxiousness with the thought of having to face him. His rejection had hurt so much last night. She couldn't handle that again.

Buffy delayed going home as long as she could, despite her longing just to see his face. To be near him, and know he was going to be okay. She needed that peace of mind.

With much trepidation, she returned home, not knowing what she would find. Turning the front door handle, she pushed it open, swallowing the giant sized lump in her throat.

_You are going to have to face him sooner or later, _she told herself.

All was quiet in the house.

She headed for the lounge room and was about to call for her Mom when she saw him. He was fast asleep on the sofa. Lying on his uninjured side. The bandage had been removed from his head, and the deep gash that had been stitched was already healing at a rapid rate. She knew how this went. For a normal person it would be anywhere from seven to ten days before the stitches could be removed, but for her … and now him, it would be two to three days.

His hair was just one wild mass of curls. He so obviously hadn't attempted to even brush it. She had a sudden memory of him smashing the mirror.

Did he despise himself that much?

There was stubble on his chin. She'd never seen him with it before and it made … it made him so much more human.

Fighting the urge to wake him up and beg him to forgive her, she forced her legs to move. It was then that her eyes landed on Giles. He was sitting in the far corner, reading a book, but judging by the frown lines denting his forehead he'd also been keeping a close eye on Spike. Aka William his son.

"How is he?" she asked.

"Mmm, well quiet, which really isn't like him," Giles returned. "Generally you can never get him to shut up."

Buffy sighed, tight and small. It hurt her chest. She forced her eyes to meet with his.

"He … He was okay towards you?"

"Yes."

Buffy felt some relief.

"But it's not the same."

The relief instantly vanished. Of course it wouldn't be. She had tried to be so strong. For these last three months, in all of her isolation, she'd kept it to herself. But now. She just couldn't bear it any longer.

Tears welled in her eyes.

"I … I'm so sorry."

Giles eyes were kind. He held out a hand to her and she went willing. He held her.

"It's okay, Buffy."

"I did wish my Mom alive. I did wish Spike to be happy. I guess I just didn't take into account my own … happiness that is, or what even made me happy … because I kind of lost that … you know … what made me happy."

* * *

_Will looked down at the lifeless body before him. He had done this, drained her of life, in the way Drusilla had drained him. Only he couldn't turn her. She was just another guileless woman, another victim to the monster within him that had to be fed. Disgust filled him. Is that what he'd become? Nothing more than a monster._

_But it was different now … he wasn't the same … he had another life … a better one … he was human. A human haunted by the horrors he had committed. Someone had cursed him to this existence._

_Then he saw her. Drusilla. _

_She walked so boldly towards him. _

"_Oh, Spike. You are all broken. The Slayer did this to you."_

_Yes. Yes. She did._

"_I can fix you," she purred. "You just have to find me. Bring me back."_

_Yes … find her … make everything right again. _

_He could do that._

_He could bring her back._

_Then she could make him whole once again. Make him what he was, what he desired to be. All he had to do … was make her … real. Then he would feel nothing. No more emotional torture. No more guilt._

"_I'm waiting … for you, my Prince," her voice echoed through the mist. "Come to me, Spike. Come to me."_

Spike woke with a start. Heart pounding in his chest. God, no! He tried to steady his rapid breathing. He felt waves pounding in his head, the blood flowing in his ears.

"It's just a dream," he muttered to himself. "It's not real." She was gone now. Just memories was all that was left of her. Drusilla had been haunting his dreams for weeks. Why should she stop now? A coldness swept over him. He shivered, and tried to push out the disturbing images of the dream from his mind.

Is this how it was going to be now? Would he be having nightmares every night of all the murders he'd committed as a vampire?

Fuck.

Raising trembling hands, he gazed at his fingers, now minus the black nail polish. '_Just keep calm. It's only a dream.' _

Voices drifted from the kitchen. Joyce and Buffy were talking. About him. Buffy sounded as miserable as he felt.

Good, part of him thought, so she should. But then … the other part, didn't want to see her suffer either. He felt a stab of irritation. Maybe it was time to slink down to the basement, but his nostrils were met with the aroma of roast beef. He was suddenly starving. When did he last eat anything?

Joyce's voice was warm and inviting, banishing the dark shadows from his mind. He found himself drawn towards the kitchen.

His stomach growled. "Shut it," he muttered. It felt like a big empty pit in there. He needed to eat … food. Craving blood was different to feeling hunger. Hunger and thirst were two sensations he'd completely forgotten.

Stepping into the kitchen, Joyce and Buffy were sitting at the bench. He'd have to face Buffy sooner or later. Might as well get it out of the way.

They both glanced up at him. Joyce with pleasant surprise. Buffy lowered her eyes soon as they had met his, but he hadn't missed seeing the naked emotion there.

"Um, my stomach won't stop growling," he managed to mutter. "I think I need to eat food."

The corner of Buffy's mouth briefly twitched, a hint of amusement in her hazel eyes. She got it.

"Sit down here," Joyce instructed, rising from her stool and giving it a pat. "I saved you a plate."

Spike sat down on the stool, opposite to Buffy, painfully aware of her every movement. He felt her trying to read him, to understand what was going through his mind.

Joyce put a plate full of vegetables in front of him.

He frowned. "Um … I thought I smelt roast beef."

Glancing up at Joyce, he noticed the sudden surprise on her face.

"Oh, I …" she began to stammer.

"Spike," Buffy chimed in. "This Will is a vegan."

He scowled. What the hell. Stuff that.

"Not anymore," he huffed.

A hint of a smile crossed Buffy's face. He found himself momentarily captivated by it.

"I'll carve you up a few more slices," Joyce returned. "And Buffy, you need to have a plate of food too."

Too right. "You look like you could do with a decent feed," he mumbled.

Then he inwardly cursed himself. He really just couldn't help himself. As if it were just second nature to him when it came to telling her what to do.

He expected some snappish retort and not the; "I guess."

His gaze met with hers. Her eyes swam with uncertainty, as if not sure on what to say, or how to act. He guessed in light of last night, he couldn't blame her.

He had been so angry. Still was, just not so much now he'd had time to think. Seeing her sitting there, all dejected made his jaw flex.

As a means of distraction, he began to attack the roast vegetables on the plate in front of him.

"How are you feeling?" Buffy asked.

"Okay," he replied. "Better."

Joyce placed another plate with roast beef and gravy on it in front of him. "Thanks, Joyce."

Smiling, she nodded. "Enjoy it." There was a bemused look on her face. Okay so she'd probably never seen him eat meat. How the hell had he exactly ended up a vegan?

Joyce placed a plate in front of Buffy as well. "You are to eat all of it. I'm off to have a shower."

Nice one Joyce, he mused. Subtle not. Awkward, yes.

"Okay, Mom," Buffy replied.

He couldn't help but shoot a glance her way. She was being so meek, and he didn't know what to make of it? He didn't like it.

"I'm eating now," she muttered, picking up a knife and fork.

Spike had already eaten half of what was on his plate, whilst she'd barely touched a thing. His eyes raked over her. She was far too thin. He had a brief memory of the first time he'd seen her dancing. All lovely curves and bouncy hair. He liked curves, why did she no longer have them?

Dragging his gaze from her, he returned to shovelling food in his mouth. He didn't want to think about the changes. She'd been a skinny bint for a while now.

"This taste so good," he enthused, as she picked at her plate.

It was almost comforting … this eating. He had still liked to eat food when he'd been turned. It used to disgust Angel. Spike would do it more often just to annoy him. Was Angel also not around anymore?

His eyes wandered to Buffy's face. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask, but now wasn't the time. Instead he noted the bruise on her cheek.

"You look a bit beat up yourself."

The fork stopped halfway to her mouth. "I got knocked out for a bit too."

His eyes raked over her, wondering, worrying, before resting on her hair.

It was so short. Why?

_Spike liked it long …_ he remembered now. Sitting on the back porch. Her, looking all sad and miserable, just like now. '_Didn't want any reminders.' _Something like that. Did she mean reminders of him?

Not that her hair looked bad exactly … just different. She was different. Her choice of clothes, like she served nothing more than a functional purpose. Slayer – kill – job – there was no 'her' anymore.

The sound of her fork clattering to the bench startled him.

"You're staring, just blurt it out, Spike. Yell at me all you want. Tell me you hate me, and you're pissed at me. Tell me it's all my fault. Just … say … something!"

"What's with the hair?"

Astonishment crossed her face. "Seriously?!"

"Not to mention the clothes," he continued. "What's gotten into you, Buffy?"

A bit of fire danced in her eyes. Now that was better. More like the Slayer he remembered.

"You!" she almost shrieked.

He frowned at her. "What?"

"I'd lost you …" her voice wavered. She averted her eyes from his. "I was so wrong about you … us … and then I'd changed everything … and I had my Mom, but …" She drew in a deep breath. "I didn't have you anymore."

His heart softened. Was that true? Did she feel for him?

"What does that have to do with your hair?"

She flung her hands up in despair.

"Because you liked it long! And you were gone!"

He still couldn't get it.

"So, wouldn't you want to keep it long to remember me?"

"Yes … no, I cut it short to forget."

That sounded more like it. Of course she'd want to forget him.

"This is so … damn it, Spike. You were gone. I was sad and so I guess I …"

"Took it out on your hair?"

"Yes! I guess so … yes."

It made more sense … kind of.

"I know you hate it. Hate me."

He shook his head. "No," he murmured softly. "Confused – yes. And Buffy I don't know … when it comes to you … I don't know what you really feel, or even what I feel anymore …"

The stricken look on her face was almost his undoing. _Don't give me that look. I can't handle it._

"When it comes to relationships, Spike. In case you haven't noticed, I kinda of suck at it."

"I had noticed."

Tears welled in her eyes, making him feel even worse than he already did.

"I could never hate you," he murmured. "Just not sure of anything anymore, Buffy. Most of all you."

Then there was Drusilla haunting his dreams. Jeez, he really felt like having a smoke now. Suppose he should go out to the back porch and escape this awkwardness, this pain.

"Be sure of one thing, Spike," she softly spoke. "I care for you – a lot – a hell of a lot. Even more than you're willing to believe right now."

His vision blurred with tears. How he wanted so much to believe it, but … he couldn't.

"Maybe in part you do," he began. "I'll give you that."

But that was all. Fiddling in the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a packet of cigarettes.

Her eyes widened slightly. "What are you doing?"

"Gonna have a smoke," he returned. "Outside of course. Joyce wouldn't be happy if I smoked inside."

"You don't smoke now."

He raised an eyebrow. "The pooncey Will doesn't, but Spike still does."

"B-But it will make you sick."

He merely shrugged a shoulder.

"You're human now … it could do serious damage to your health, Spike."

"So be it."

She almost felt like strangling him. He could be so infuriating. Fighting back the tears, her eyes met his challenging ones.

"What do you want, Buffy?"

'_You. I want you.'_

Shaking her head, she swallowed the painful lump in her throat. Not knowing how to go there, or what it would take to convince him that what she felt for him was real. She had her own fair share of insecurities. Her heart had been so broken at 17, with Angel. Everything since then had been tainted by that experience. She was so filled with a fear of rejection.

"I'm so not normal."

"Cause you're not. You're the Slayer. Maybe that's your problem. You need to stop thinking like a regular girl."

"So says a former vampire, who ate food like a regular person."

Buffy felt impressed by her quick come back.

"You got the former bit right," he muttered. "I'm going outside to smoke."

Buffy watched him leave, her annoyance growing. If he was going to smoke, then so was she.

She followed him outside.

He turned around, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Can I have one?"

He blinked in surprise.

"Might as well destroy our health together."

There was a flicker of regret in his eyes. "Buffy," he began.

"Don't say it, Spike. My doing. I created this … I'm so going to have a cigarette."

Reluctantly, he pulled one out of the packet and handed it to her. "Joyce is going kill me for this."

Pulling out his lighter, Buffy placed the cigarette to her lips and he lit it for her. She drew back. Spike waited for the fit of coughing that never came. Maybe it had something to do with being a Slayer?

He lit his own cigarette, drew back, and he was the one having the coughing fit.

"God …" he gasped, screwing up his face. "That's so disgusting."

He peered at her through watery eyes. "Why aren't you coughing?"

She shrugged, gazing down at the cigarette in her hand with a frown. "I think I sort of like it."

That's right, she had smoked before, in this time. He remembered it. Remembered seeing her doing it. He even remembered the big lecture he'd given her. Jeez, he'd been such a bleeding goody two shoes, but oddly enough he still felt disconcerted watching her smoke.

He glared at the cigarette in his hand. "I swear it never tasted like this when I was a vampire?"

"You never smoked before you became a vampire?" she asked.

"Yeah, but I smoked a pipe then."

Her eyebrows shot up. "You smoked a pipe."

"It was the 1880's, Buffy, everyone smoked pipes."

"Guess I'm just not with the times," she quipped.

She made him smile. This wasn't so bad. The two of them talking about general stuff. Maybe they could do this, get along and not re-hash the past.

He attempted to take another drag of the cigarette. It still tasted disgusted. He coughed, again.

"You gonna persist with it?" She asked.

He scowled at the amusement in her eyes.

"Maybe you should buy a pipe," she continued.

She was in fine form all right, Spike inwardly mused.

Joyce's voice from the kitchen wafted through the air. "I can smell smoke. Who's smoking?"

Buffy and Spike's eyes quickly met. They both dropped the cigarette to the ground and stepped on them.

Joyce opened the back door.

"Is someone smoking out here?"

Buffy tried to look all innocent.

Spike shoved his hands in his pockets. "Um, no."

She cast a suspicious look there way. "Buffy, you haven't finished eating your dinner."

"Oh, shit," she muttered.

"I'm not leaving here till you do," Joyce continued.

"Yeah, Slayer. At the rate you're going I'll be able to whip your skinny arse in a fight in no time."

She shot daggers his way. He liked it when she got angry, strangely. It still turned him on.

"Dream on, Spike," she hissed back.

Turning on her heel, she flounced back inside.

"Have you been smoking?" Spike heard Joyce grill. "I thought you'd given up. You know I don't like you smoking, Buffy."

"I had, guess I just slipped up. It's been a stressful week."

She was being a trouper. That was his girl … and not his girl … never would be, and it was best kept that way.

But they could be friends. He guessed. Pulling the cigarette packet out of his pocket, he stared at it for a long silent moment. Buffy's words rang in his ears, _'you gonna persist with it?'_

He scrunched the packet up. Nope. As for Buffy, she looked to be enjoying smoking far too much for his liking.

Walking downstairs, he headed for the bin and dumped the cigarettes in it.

He spied Xander lurking about on the front porch, looking indecisive. Damn. It looked like he was in for a long night of dealing with people who now liked him and didn't remember the monster he'd been. Except for Buffy.

He walked up the front steps towards Xander.

"Hey."

"You all right?" Xander asked.

Define all right? He still felt like shit. When around people the memories abated, but alone they haunted him. They were not going to be going away anytime soon.

"Yeah … sort of."

This was weird, and yet he found himself not hating Xander. He even liked him. '_Damn it, Buffy'_. He wanted to hate him. But he was a good fighter now. They were mates.

"You wanna come inside. Guess we need to chat about the …"

"Uber Vamp," Xander finished for him. "Sure."

Spike opened the front door like it was his own home. It felt like it. He shook his head and followed Xander inside.

His life had taken on a new definition of weirdness? But then when had his life ever been normal?

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**A/N: **Thanks for reading! Please leave a review if you can. I am really keen to read if people are liking this story and the direction I'm taking it. I love feedback! Even if it's just to let me know what you enjoyed the most.

I especially loved writing the Buffy/Spike scene in this chapter. I guess because he's Spike again. They really gel these two characters and are fun to write. I'm finally at where I wanted to be with this story.

I'm on a roll now and you should get a chapter at least every one to two weeks here on out until it's finished.

Cheers.


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